


Ravenvale

by totallyrhettro



Category: Seaborne and Roach - Fandom, rhink - Fandom
Genre: Ambushes and Sneak Attacks, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Best Friends, Blood, Blood and Violence, Car Sex, Darkness, Death, Declarations Of Love, Diners, Dream Sex, Driving, Explicit Sexual Content, FBI Agent Roach, FBI Agent Seaborne, Fae & Fairies, Fairies, Fog, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Hands, Happy Ending, Happy endings guaranteed, Horror, Hotels, Illusions, Investigations, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Mystery, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Near Death, Nude Photos, Other, Photographs, Scary, Sex in a Car, Sexual Content, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room, Small Towns, Spooky, Tags Contain Spoilers, additional tags to be added as required
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2020-05-28 18:36:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 40,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19400011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totallyrhettro/pseuds/totallyrhettro
Summary: On their way home from another case, Agent Seaborne and Agent Roach find themselves in the strange, fog-covered town of Ravenvale.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Seaborne and Roach AU where, years after the events seen in the YouTube series, they manage to become FBI agents.

It was some time after midnight when Seaborne starting hearing the light snoring. A glance to the right confirmed his colleague, Roach, was sound asleep in the passenger seat. Seaborne didn't blamed him; it had been a long day for both of them. After driving for six hours to Tucson, Arizona for a supposed alien-sighting, it turned out to only be some jerk in a modified Bigfoot costume. Now they had to drive another six hours back to Vegas and then take a four hour plane ride just to get back to their home state. It was days like these that made the brunet in his mid-thirties wonder why he became an FBI agent in the first place.

He looked over at Roach again. The answer, of course, was obvious. While Seaborne was perfectly happy being a private detective, when his blond friend applied to join the federal bureau of investigations he had to apply, too.

‘ _Someone has to keep an eye on you,_ ’ he rationalized. The truth was that anywhere Roach went, Seaborne would follow. It had been that way ever since they are kids. Even now, as he looked over at his 6’7” companion, he still saw that young boy with a dopey bowl cut that he had met way back in first grade. Under that chinstrap beard and ever-rising pompadour, deep down Roach hadn't changed much, not where it mattered.

It had been Roach’s idea to accept this case, just like all the paranormal cases they investigated. He was, had always been, obsessed with aliens and the supposedly inexpiable. Sometimes it was downright irritating but there was this other side to him that Seaborne found irrationally endearing. Roach saw the world in a unique way, like there was mystery and intrigue everywhere, which gave him a strangely attractive quality, and was one of the many reasons his FBI partner loved him.

Of course it was that curious spirit that now brought them to this lonely road, in the middle of nowhere, with only their headlights to light their way. Not even the moon was shining. It and the stars were completely obscured by dense clouds overhead. The desert road was so straight and the scenery so bland and unremarkable that if it weren't for the occasional mile marker, Seaborne might have sworn they weren't getting anywhere. The extreme monotony was starting to wear down his resolve to stay awake. He thought about turning on the car radio but he didn't want to disturb Roach. The tall man deserved a rest as much as anybody and wasn't going to get any on the long plane ride later.

Rubbing his eyes, Seaborne tried to keep himself from drifting off to sleep himself, but he wasn't sure if he was going to last much longer. He didn’t know exactly where they were, or how far it was to the next town. He had half a mind to pull over and sleep in the car until morning instead of waiting until they found a motel. It wouldn't be comfortable, but it was a better alternative than falling asleep at the wheel.

‘ _No,_ ’ he told himself. ‘ _We can't be that far away from civilization. Just a bit further._ ’ He blinked hard and readjusted his hands on the steering wheel. He was certain that any moment now an exit sign for some town or another would appear on the horizon, leading him somewhere with a bed and indoor plumbing. He wished he could check his GPS, but both his and Roach’s cell phones had died hours ago, and neither had thought to bring a car charger on this trip.

Seaborne didn't know how much longer he drove with only his thoughts for company. Eventually he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. Sighing, he pulled over and parked the sedan a few feet off the road so that they wouldn't get rear-ended by any passing traffic. Putting back the seat of the tan rental car, he did his best to get comfortable. After one last glanced at Roach, he closed his eyes and seconds later he too was fast asleep.

~ ~ ~

Roach woke first. He stretched his neck, slightly stiff from leaning against a car door all night. Pulling his large framed glasses out from the neck of his white buttoned shirt, he put them on and looked out the window. He expected to see some unknown parking lot or, at least, a few buildings. What he did not expect was to see nothing. Nothing but white.

Seaborne, to his left, was laying back and sound asleep. His mouth was slightly ajar, sure proof of his unconsciousness. Roach gave him a gentle shake to rouse his companion awake and the brunet just moaned, groggily. 

“Uh… Matthew…” he muttered. Roach made a face then shook the man harder. 

“Wake up, man. You're having that dog dream again.” Finally Seaborne opened his eyes and looked up. For a moment he didn’t know where he was but he quickly recalled the events that led him to be lying down in a strange car.

“Morning,” he managed with a stretch.

“Morning. Did I miss anything last night?”

“Just a long, boring nothing.” Seaborne closed his eyes, unsure if he wanted to be fully awake just yet. “Most boring state ever.”

“I’m guessing we didn’t make it back to Vegas,” Roach noted, looking back out the window.

“Yeah, sorry. I couldn’t stay awake. You want to take over driving?”

“On what? I can’t even see the road.” Seaborne’s eyes snapped open and looked up at his friend in confusion. “I didn’t know you could get fog in the desert.” After a moment, the brunet pulled his chair back straight and got his first look at the new view. The fog was so thick, he could barely make out the street just a few feet away.

“Must be a lake nearby.” He rolled down the window of his car a few inches and stuck his hand out. A few tiny droplets collected on his fingertips. “It’s still cold from last night. I’m sure the sun will eventually evaporate this away. Until then, we can just take it slow.”

“You want to drive in this?”

“You want to walk?” Roach grimaced and thought about this for a second. He didn’t have to answer vocally. His feelings on the matter were all too obvious. “That’s what I thought,” Seaborne continued. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a hot shower.” After making sure his seat-belt was firmly in place, he brought his hand to the car keys, still in the ignition, and gave them a good turn.

Nothing happened.

Frowning, he pulled the keys out and put them back in before turning the ignition again. Still nothing. No whine, no click, nothing. The whole thing seemed dead.

“You ran outta gas,” Roach suggested.

“Impossible; I had at least half a tank left when I pulled over.” Frustrated, he turned the key again. Nothing.

“Battery must be dead. You leave the headlights on or something?”

“I don’t think I did.” Another turn, but to no avail. He thought back to the night before, trying to remember if he had left the lights on or not. He couldn’t remember.

“I guess we’re walking after all,” Roach grumbled, unhooking his seat-belt. Seaborne fell back in his chair, defeated. “How far to the next town?”

“I have no idea,” Seaborne bemoaned. 

“Great. Let’s go, then.” With an angry sigh, Roach opened the glove compartment. There were two glock 22’s inside, standard issue. He passed one to his partner before taking his own and stepping out of the car. He didn't think they'd need to be armed but he didn't want to leave them in the car either. It wasn't protocol. Seaborne locked the car out of habit, noting internally how pointless it was to lock a car that wouldn't start when there weren't even any valuables inside.

Roach buttoned up his dark blue suit jacket and stuffed his hands into his pants’ pockets. For being a desert, it had gotten amazingly cold and the thick, damp air wasn’t helping. Seaborne wasn't any better off with his own brown suit, but he still wished he had a hat or something to protect his ears. The two men exchanged a quick look before they started to trudge down the road, hoping their journey to the next town would be a short one.

They walked on in silence. Seaborne was too busy chastising himself for letting the car battery die to make any sort of conversation and Roach was trying to remember what he learned in high school science class about how fog formed. Normally it required both low temperatures and high humidity but he couldn’t understand why either of those things were in the desert. It just didn’t make any sense.

The car quickly faded from view and soon they could only see the roadside and each other. It was like the rest of the world ceased to exist completely leaving an eerie stillness that permeated the air almost as much as the fog itself. Seaborne lost track of time just watching himself place one foot in front of the other, over and over. Roach did much the same, occasionally bring a finger up to wipe the water droplets that collected on his large-rimmed glasses.

Despite Seaborne’s hope that the heat of the sun, somewhere in the sky beyond his sight, would cause the thick vapor to dissipate, the haze remained unchanged as they walked along. They continued to venture forward into the unknown until, finally, a strange light began to emerge in the distance. Seaborne nudged his companion who pulled his gaze from his feet to look where his partner was pointing. It was a sickly, red color, but they couldn’t quite make out it’s source. Without a word both men increased their pace to investigate.

Slowly the origin of the light came into view. A sign, about forty feet up, was adorned with tall letters blazing out two words in red neon: ‘Hotel’ and ‘Vacancy’. Seaborne let out a deep breath of relief. He didn’t know what town they were entering or if this was just a truck stop motel. He didn’t care. All he wanted was a hot shower, a simple breakfast, and the use of an indoor toilet. He was certain he would be able to find at least one of those and he was more than looking forward to it.

“About time,” Roach murmured, wiping his glasses again. “I hope there’s a gas station nearby.” He strained his eyes to see through the fog but besides the sign, he could still see nothing. It wasn’t until a short walk later that the Hotel building came into view. The two-story structure was painted an ugly, faded pink and was shaped like a square U. The parking lot, situated in the center, didn't seem to have any cars parked in it, but the fog was just as thick here as anywhere. There could have been a semi truck in the lot and the two men wouldn't have seen it.

“They should at least have a phone so we can call a tow.” Seaborne checked his wristwatch. He mostly wore it as a fashion piece, but with his cellphone dead he was glad to have it. “If we’re lucky, we still might make it back in time for our flight.”

“They probably only have a pay phone,” Roach commented. “This place looks like it was built in the seventies. You got any change?”

“No, but they've got to have an office phone we can use.” ‘ _I hope,_ ’ he added to himself. The building did look a bit run down, but if the sign was on that meant it was still in business and any Hotel still in business surely had a reliable telephone.

As they opened the front door to the lobby, a tiny room with a short counter and a potted plant, they expected to see someone, anyone, around. A small, metal bell rang out as the door opened and closed, but no one came to see the two men arriving. Seaborne stepped up to the counter while Roach looked around, straightening his red and grey striped tie.

“Hello?” Seaborne called out. Another door, behind the counter, was closed and marked with a small plaque. ‘Employees Only’ it read. Beside the door were rows of numbered cubbies, obviously for housing keys to the various rooms. There was a clock on the wall, but all the hands were missing. Neither man saw any sign of a telephone either.

“Check it out, Seaborne.” Roach motioned towards the potted plant, grabbing and rubbing one of the giant leaves. “It's fake.”

“Guess they're not big on watering,” Seaborne replied, not really listening. He turned back towards the closed door. “Hey! Is anyone there? We could use some assistance, please!”

“They should get a cactus then,” Roach continued. “I mean, we are in a desert, and you don't have to water them much.” Ignoring his companion’s vocalization of internal dialogue, Seaborne stepped around the corner to knock on the door behind the counter. 

Just as he brought up his hand to knock, the door swung open and a very short, old woman was on the other side. Her grey hair was poofed up like cauliflower, and she wore a floral blouse with an almost matching pleated skirt. On her face sat a large pair of pink-framed glasses that made her grey eyes seem twice normal size. Barely coming up to Seaborne’s chest, she seemed to be the essence of sweet, little old lady.

“Oh! Hello, dearie! I didn't know we had customers.” She gave the brown-haired agent a sweet smile. “You staying in town for awhile? We have lots of rooms!” She walked easily under Seaborne’s still outstretched arm and looked over the row of cubbies.

“Uh, no… Ma’am, we…” Seaborne cleared his throat, collecting himself before continuing. “Our car broke down and we could use-”

“I've got some nice, east-facing rooms,” the woman continued, as if she had not heard him speak. “You can see the sun rise in the morning. Don't you love that? Oh I do love the sunrise.”

“Ma’am?” Seaborne asked again. The woman finally looked up, confused for a moment.

“Hmm? Oh! No customers behind the counter! No no no, not allowed.” Gently she grabbed his elbow and guided him back around the counter. “There you are. Rules are rules, dearie. Now. Do you gentlemen want two rooms? One? I can give you-”

“No!” he interrupted, a bit louder than he intended. The old woman stopped immediately, but just looked up at him, expectantly, waiting for him to continue. “Uh, I'm Agent Seaborne and this is my partner, Agent Roach.” Roach smiled and offered a small wave. “Our car broke down. Do you have a phone we could use?”

“Agent? Oh my, are you spies?” The woman smiled, a slight tone of titillation in her voice. “How exciting.” Before Seaborne could correct her, Roach spoke up.

“That’s right, ma’am. We’re on a secret mission but we could use your help.” Seaborne gave him a confused look but he ignored it and the woman didn't notice.

“Oh, well I'd love to help you if I can. I'm Miss Marble.” She offered her hand and Roach stepped forward to shake it. “How can I help you boys?”

“Well, Miss Marble, our car broke down. We could use a tow. Do you have a phone we could borrow?”

“Oh, our phone hasn't worked in years, I'm afraid. But there's a gas station just up the road.” She pointed for emphasis. “Doug and his brother Darrell should be able to get you two fixed up in no time. Nice boys. Known them since they were in diapers, you know.”

“Thank you very much, Ma’am,” Seaborne cut in, as kindly as possible. “I guess we'll go to talk to them then.” 

“You sure you two don't want a room? The festival’s tomorrow and they fill up fast.”

“No thank you. We have a flight to catch and we won't be-”

“What festival?” Roach interrupted.

“Oh it'll be a lovely time, you'll see. Everyone in town will be there.” 

“What town are we in, exactly?” Seaborne asked, suddenly realizing that he hadn't before.

“You're in Ravenvale, dear. We're not a big town but we've got big hearts. Oh you must stay for the festival tomorrow, especially if you've never been. I promise you've never seen anything like it.”

“We'll see,” Seaborne said before Roach could promise anything. “We do have a, uh, important case were on. Right, Roach?”

“Very important.” Roach gave Miss Marble a sly wink. “Very top secret.” The woman blushed and gave a little giggle.

“Well, you boys stay out of trouble then. Be careful out there in the fog. It's awfully thick out there today.” Roach opened the door and held it open for Seaborne who moved to leave but then paused for a moment.

“Is there often fog around here?”

“Oh always around this time of year. I'm sure it will clear up soon.” Not quite satisfied, Seaborne smiled and nodded goodbye before ducking out, quickly followed by Roach. As they headed along the road once more, Roach shook his head.

“She’s hiding something,” he stated, matter-of-factly.

“What?”

“I don't know what, but she’s up to something. I can tell.”

“She looks almost seventy. What’s she going to be up to? Running a drug cartel?”

“No, of course not, but she is hiding something.” It was useless for Seaborne tell his partner he was being paranoid. It would be like telling a sloth it's being lazy. Trying to think about something else, he changed the subject. 

“You ever hear of Ravenvale?”

“Nope,” Roach replied, pushing up his glasses. “But I didn't memorize all the towns in the United States before I left town yesterday.”

“I guess.” 

“What're you thinking?”

“I don't know. It's probably nothing. I just want to get back home. I'm sick of this fog. The whole damn state to be honest. This whole trip has been a big waste of time.”

“I still say that farmer in Tucson was working for the government.” Seaborne gave his friend an incredulous look.

“ _We_ work for the government,” he reminded him. 

“You're so naive, man. You think just because we’re FBI now, that the government tells us everything they're up to? Wake up, man.” Seaborne sighed. The argument was old and tired. Shaking his head, he let it go. There were just some things that never changed.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time the two men approached the gas station, a rundown Texaco, the visibility through the fog had increased immensely. Instead of only seeing a few feet in front of them, they could see nearly half a block in every direction. Beyond the gas station rows of houses stretched out into the distance, small and unremarkable. Like outside the hotel, there was no sign of any cars or people anywhere.

“Seems awfully deserted for a holiday,” Seaborne noted.

“Maybe they're waiting for the fog to clear up,” Roach suggested. “It hasn't exactly been a great day for setting up anything.”

“I guess.” It was as good an explanation as any, and the fog was still pretty terrible. Eventually the two men made it to the front door of the gas station. Just like the hotel lobby, inside the station there was not a soul in sight. Seaborne leaned over the counter, checking if there was someone maybe hiding behind it, as Roach started browsing over the snack shelves for something to eat.

“Check it out,” he exclaimed, holding up a brown and red package. “Elk jerky!”

“I'm not paying for that,” his partner grumbled, straightening up.

“Well, someone better,” came a voice. The two agents looked over to the front door where a stout middle-aged man stood dressed in dirty overalls and a trucker's hat covering a greying head of hair. “I'm not running a charity here.” Seaborne cleared his throat and adjusted his jacket before offering the stranger his hand. 

“Hello, sir. I'm Agent Seaborne of the FBI, and this is my partner, Agent Roach.” The stranger didn't take Seaborne’s hand or even look at it. After a moment, Seaborne lowered his hand with a glance towards his partner. “Uh, we um… Our car broke down, just out of town. Miss Marble said we could find some help here?” The stranger's less-than-friendly expression remained unchanged as he walked past both men and around the counter. Roach looked down at the jerky in his hand, unsure if he should put it back or not, before finally decided he wasn't that hungry.

“Are you, uh, Doug?” Seaborne asked, trying not to sound as nervous as he felt. The stranger was quite a bit shorter than him, but looked much tougher and the agent didn't want to piss him off.

“Darrell,” he stranger stated.

“Darrell, right. Well, think you can help us?”

“With what?” Darrell asked, unpleasantly. He glared at Seaborne as if the taller man was annoying him by just standing in his presence.

“Um, our car?” With a heavy sigh, the mechanic walked back around the counter and headed to the rear of the room to where an office door stood hidden by some taller shelves. He knocked a few times before calling out.

“Doug! Get yer lazy ass out here. Customers!” Seconds later the door opened revealing a similarity-dressed man who looked a lot like Darrell. In fact, he looked exactly like Darrell, grumpy expression and all.

“Wha?” he spat. Darrel pointed at the two men still waiting near the front. 

“Car broke down. You're gonna go git it then come back here. Understand?” The second mechanic, Doug most likely, nodded briefly before ducking back into the other room. Darrell walked back to Seaborne and pointed towards the gas station garage outside. “Doug’ll take y'all to get yer car.”

“Thanks,” Seaborne said as politely as he could. “We appreciate your help.” He started to head outside and meet up with Doug, hoping to find him behind the wheel of a tow truck, but Roach spoke up, suddenly.

“You two twins?” He wondered. Darrell looked up at him with his confused and angry stare.

“No,” he answered as if the question was stupid and the answer obvious. “I'm older than him.”

“Oh. It's just… you two look so much alike.”

“He dun’ look nothin’ like me,” he grumbled. Shaking his head, as if Roach was an idiot, he went back behind the counter, grabbed up an old magazine, and started to read. Seaborne held open the front door while his partner walked out, slouching slightly. Outside the two agents quickly made their way towards the garage entrance.

“Did you have to aggravate the man?” Seaborne asked, when they were out of earshot. “We want them to help us.”

“You saw them; there is no way they weren't twins.”

“He said they weren't. Why would he lie?” To that, Roach could only shrug. Meanwhile, they reached the open door to the garage. Inside sat an old tow truck, it's green paint faded from use and time. Doug was behind it, checking on some equipment. He stopped as the agents approached.

“Yer car broke?” he asked, stepping back around the truck.

“Well, the battery might just be dead,” Seaborne told him. “It won't start.”

“Darrell lets me drive the truck.”

“Uh, that's good.” Seaborne glanced over at Roach before continuing. “I don't think we’re that far out of town.” Doug’s eyes got real wide with fear as he glanced back and forth between the two agents.

“You shouldn't leave town. S’not safe. Th-the fog…”

“I'm sure it'll be fine.” Seaborne grasped the door handle and tilted his head. “D’you mind?” Doug thought about this for a moment, then nodded. As Seaborne climbed into the truck, Roach approached him close enough to whisper. 

“You go ahead,” he said quietly, so only his friend would hear. “I'm going to look around here for a bit. Check this place out.”

“The car probably just needs a jump," Seaborne whispered back. "Doug can drop us off, jump start the car, and we can be on our way.”

“If that's all it needs, you can swing by and pick me up afterwards.” Roach bit his lip, looking around before adjusting his glasses and turning back to his companion. “There's something going on here, I can feel it.” Seaborne sighed, not really in the mood to argue.

“Whatever man. Suit yourself, but you better be ready to leave when I get back. I don't want to spend one minute longer in this place than I have to.” With that, he yanked open the truck door closed, emphasizing the end of the conversation. Roach stepped back to allow the truck a wide berth and gave Seaborne a short wave as Doug started to drive off.

‘ _Try to stay out of trouble,_ ’ Seaborne silently urged.

~ ~ ~

The journey back to the rental car was like traveling through a white tunnel, going along the road with the fog all around. Seaborne hoped the strange weather wasn't going to last much longer. It was like a blanket over the land, dampening the atmosphere and his overall mood. He was always one to be affected by the weather; rain made him lonely, snowstorms left him miserable. This fog was leaving him with a growing depression that he just couldn't shake. He couldn't wait to get his car fixed so he, and Roach, could be on their way.

After what seemed like ages, the tan rental car finally came into view, leaning slightly over the curb right where the two FBI agents had left it. Doug pulled the tow truck up in front of it, glancing around nervously as he put the vehicle into park.

“Are you alright, sir?” Seaborne asked.

“Not safe.” Doug didn't meet Seaborne's eyes as he climbed out of the truck. The agent frowned and sighed to himself. He got out too, hoping that if he helped it could speed this process along. Still, he wasn't sure what he could do. He watched as the mechanic removed a set of jumper cables and slung them over his shoulder.

“Can I do anything?”

“Open it?” Doug pointed at the hood and Seaborne nodded, understanding. Moving over to the front of the car, he put his hand under the lip of the hood and, with a flip of his fingers, unlocked it. Once the battery was ready and waiting, the shorter man quickly set up the jumper cables. Then Seaborne got into the car and proceeded to try the key in the ignition.

Nothing.

“It's not working!” he shouted. Doug wasn't listening but looking off into the distance, though there wasn't much to see beyond the wall of fog around them. “Hey! Doug!” Finally the man met Seaborne’s gaze, chewing on his lip looking more like a scared little boy than a grown man. “It didn't work.”

“We should go back. It's not safe here.” Seaborne sighed and tried the ignition again. Still nothing. Frustrated he got back out of the car and checked the cables himself, seeing as Doug was being absolutely no help. The cables were fine, and the pick up truck was running fine. It should have been working. 

“Why isn't it _working?_ ” he wondered aloud. After a few more minutes, trying everything he could think of, Seaborne banged his hands on the steering wheel, cursing loudly. He sat there several seconds more before getting back out. He stared at the hood of the offending sedan, seriously considering taking out his gun and putting it down with one shot to the engine, before stretching his neck and walking away.

“We go back now?” Doug asked as the agent went back to the pick up.

“I guess it needs more than a jump,” Seaborne admitted. The mechanic seemed very relieved as he retrieved his jumper cables and threw them into his truck. Once Seaborne was back in the passenger seat, Doug re-positioned his vehicle behind the sedan, getting ready to haul it back to town. He worked quickly, this time while Seaborne waited patiently. The slim agent was now staring out the window at the fog.

‘ _Why does everything have to be so difficult?_ ’

~ ~ ~

Meanwhile back in town, Roach was mindlessly humming ‘Secret Agent’ as he wandered down the streets of Ravenvale. Everything seemed normal: normal roads, normal houses, normal everything. It was almost creepy how normal everything was. Well, looked. It didn’t feel normal. The humidity, which still was strangely present, was starting to do a number on his carefully sculpted hair and he could sense hairs falling out of place.

Running a hand through his pompadour, he paused a moment to get his bearings, wondering where he should head next. As he looked around, he noticed things were almost a bit too uniform. Cookie cutter houses, all painted subdued pastel colors, lined the streets in straight, tidy grids. Still no sign of life beyond the occasional desert shrub and it was very eerie. Roach was about to go up to the nearest house and knocked on the door, just to see if anyone else actually lived in this town, when something caught his eye.

Down the street, just barely on the edges of where the fog became too thick to see through, was a small figure. She stood somewhere between two and three feet tall and was incredibly thin, almost spindly. A sinewy blue dressed covered most of her body and she wore a matching pair of slippers. Despite her incredibly small size, Roach might have thought she was a little person or a tiny child, but for the pointy ears sticking out of her silver hair and the delicate wings.

A pair of gossamer wings, delicate and translucent like those on a dragonfly, stuck out of her back at least a foot and fluttered slightly as she moved. On tip toes she pranced on the edges of the fog, dancing in and out of the white nothing. Though she was too far away for it to be possible, Roach would have sworn he heard her giggle. She was only there for a few seconds as the FBI agent inched closer, then she faded into the mist and was gone. Roach squinted his eyes, trying to see but there was nothing but fog. He walked to where he'd seen the tiny woman, but there was no sign of her. It was like she had never been there.

Despite his disappointment at losing the strange, winged woman, Roach had a huge grin on his face. He examined the area for a few more minutes before starting his journey back to the garage to meet back up with his partner.

He couldn't wait to tell Seaborne.


	3. Chapter 3

Back in town, Roach found his lifelong friend at the Texaco station. Doug (at least, he assumed it was Doug) was just unhooking the tan rental car from the tow truck and Seaborne was staring at it, arms crossed, like he wanted to punch it in the face. If only it had a face to punch. Apparently the car needed more than a quick jump. Trotting up with a bit of a cheerful step, Roach approached his partner before tapping him on the arm. 

“What the scoop?” he asked when Seaborne turned around. His blue eyes were weary and his face hung low with stress. Maybe after they got back to North Carolina they could ask the higher ups for some vacation time. They certainly deserved it.

“No idea,” Seaborne huffed. “Jumping it did absolutely nothing.” He let out a quiet sigh, letting his arms fall as Doug came over to talk to them. 

“Don’t worry,” the mechanic began, a kind smile on his greasy face. “Darrell will see what’s wrong. Darrell can fix anything.”

“It’s not whether he can or not that worries me,” Seaborne told him, trying to be polite. His patience was clearly wearing thin. He checked his watch. “Our flight leaves in a few hours and I don’t even know how long it will take to get to the airport.” Unphased by the agent’s undertone of frustration, Doug kept smiling as he walked back towards the gas station store.

“Darrel can fix it,” he repeated, cheerfully. Seaborne clutched the bridge of his nose, groaning.

“I hate this town,” he muttered.

“It’s not all bad,” Roach offered. When his partner turned a less than friendly gaze his way, he quickly elaborated. “I did a little exploring while you were gone, and you won’t believe what I saw.”

“No, I probably won’t.” Not waiting for hear Roach’s story, Seaborne brushed passed him, following after Doug. He wanted to make sure that these strange brothers were getting to work on the car right away. He didn’t have time for any nonsense; he was already getting a headache. Following behind, Roach held his tongue. He so desperately wanted to tell his friend about the winged woman in the fog, but now wasn’t the time. He knew well enough that Seaborne wouldn’t want to hear any of it right now. Maybe later. Hopefully soon.

Inside, Seaborne spoke with Darrell again. The man was still grumpy and still looking through his magazine, but with very few words he assured the agents that he would look at the car presently.

“Any reason you can’t look at it now?” Seaborne asked, a hint of anger in his calm tone. Darrell paid no mind to the tone or the taller man’s urgency. He turned a page before answering in the same voice as before.

“On break,” he stated, and that was that. It did no good to explain how Seaborne and Roach needed to get to Vegas to make their flight. Still holding in the rage that was quickly building inside him, Seaborne finally stormed out of the station, Roach following behind him like a puppy.

“Why don’t we get lunch?” he offered, trying to lighten the mood. “Maybe there’s a Denny’s or something? Come on.” He tapped Seaborne on the arm nonchalantly. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starved, and I think we both need some Joe. Whaddaya say?” A cup of coffee did sound divine right now, and the caffeine would most definitely help. With a nod, Seaborne agreed and the two of them headed down the road to see what restaurants this odd town had, if any.

~ ~ ~

The fog was as thick as ever, but luckily Roach had seen a small restaurant down the road on his previous journey through the small town. It was called ‘Ludere’ and it looked like a family-owned, ‘mom and pop’ kinda place. A quaint little establishment, it had a very welcoming vibe, with planters out front and striped awnings over the windows. The inside was lined with mauve booths, littered with tables and there wasn’t a single patron in sight. At this point the agents were almost getting used to there not being anyone around, still chalking it up to the fog. Surely no one wanted to go out in to the fog if they didn’t have to.

They two men passed the sign that read ‘seat yourself’ and found a nice big booth by the front windows. It gave them a wonderful view of the white fog still rolling by in the distance. Plus the light from outside provided more illumination than the dim overhead lamps that hung over their heads. It seemed like an okay place, if a bit cheap. The plastic tablecloths, paper napkins, and packets of condiments on the table didn’t fill Seaborne with any confidence about the quality of the food, and he hadn’t even seen the menu yet.

“Is anybody even working here today?” he grumbled. As if on cue, a woman in a red and white striped dress that barely reached her legs approached their table. She held up a notepad and pencil, smiling kindly if a bit blankly.

“Hiya there, my name’s Cindy.” She gave a wink to the agents. “What can I do ya for?” Seaborne hesitated, confused that they hadn’t been giving a menu yet.

“Cup of coffee,” he almost begged. “Please.” The woman scribbled onto her notepad.

“And for you, sugar?” she asked Roach. The man struggled for a moment, trying to think about breakfasts he’d had in the past and ordered from places like this.

“Uh, can I get some eggs?”

“Sure. How would you like them cooked?”

“Scrambled, and um, some bacon… and pancakes, and some orange juice?” The waitress scribbled down some more.

“Anything else?”

“And a blueberry muffin!” Seaborne rolled his eyes, but said nothing. He was used to his partner eating enough for three. It was a wonder the tall man was able to stay so thin. Once Cindy was gone, he got to his feet.

“I need to piss. Try not to eat the table while I’m gone.” Roach ignored the crassness of Seaborne’s language and tried to keep things light. He Looked up at his friend with a big grin.

“No promises,” he replied. His smile only faltered once his partner was out of sight. Then, he slumped in his chair, taking off his classes to clean them. Seaborne was never really as chipper as Roach, though it would be hard for anyone to do that, but today his mood was even more sour than usual. Roach certainly couldn’t blame him; things were going from bad to worse and he was probably still tired from last night’s long drive. A bit of caffeine would definitely help, but what he needed was a nice nap. Maybe after they ate, if the mechanics still had a lot of work to do on the car, the two of them could find something fun to do. Although, in this podunk town it didn’t look like there was much to do in the way of fun. 

Cindy came back with their drinks quickly, setting them down with practiced flair and grace. Roach thanked her immediately and she gave him a coy wink in return. This gave him paused; not because he legitimately believed she was flirting with him. He knew well enough the tricks of the waitress trade in getting better tips. No, it was more than that. Something about her face, the way she moved and winked… Roach was certain he had seen her around before, but how could that be? He’d never been in this city before. Yesterday was the first time even in this state. Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling. Before she could saunter away again, he spoke up to get her attention.

“Hey, uh, have we met… before?” Cindy kept smiling, but tilted her head trying to think.

“I don’t think so, sweetie.” She shifted her weight to one hip, jutting it out and resting a delicate hand on top. “I think I would remember a handsome lad as yourself.”

“You ever make it out so far as the east coast?”

“Can’t say I have, sugar. I’ve lived in this town my whole life. Never really was one for travel’n.” Roach shrugged and let it drop. He had more pressing interests to ask about. 

“Let me ask you something else.” With a brief glance towards the bathroom, he leaned in close. “You seen anything… strange around here, recently? Maybe strange things in the fog?”

“I try not to go into the fog, if I can help it,” she admitted. “It’s not safe. Why? Did you see something?”

“I think I might have. I was out walking just down the road when I saw her: a fairy woman.” Intrigued, Cindy sat down across from him, in Seaborne’s empty seat. 

“Fairy? Well that is a sight, for sure," she noted. "I’ve heard tales of tiny people in the fog from time to time, but I’ve never seen ‘em myself.”

“What have you heard?” Roach asked, leaning forward.

“Not much. I really never paid the stories any mind, but my uncle insists their true. He’ll tell anyone who’ll listen all about ‘em. He loves to talk about the little woman who dance in the fog.” Roach’s eyes lit up at the news. He couldn’t believe his luck. Maybe if he could get Seaborne to talk to this young lady’s uncle he could prove that what he had seen was real.

“Where can I find him?”

In the bathroom, Seaborne found at least some relief from his stress at a urinal. He didn't realize how badly he’d had to go until he was standing there, letting out what felt like a gallon of pee. It felt so good to be free of that burden he made a low moaning noise as he felt his bladder empty. Luckily there wasn’t anyone to hear, and he wouldn't have really cared if there had been. This was the first time in hours that something had actually gone right, and it was only a working toilet. The bar was set quite low.

As he washed his hands, he took notice of the bathroom’s decor, noting the severe lack of it. Not that he was expecting much, but there wasn’t even a mirror. The room had a few urinals, two stalls and a couple of sinks. Other than that and the soap dispenser, the room held nothing else. Seaborne grumbled as he wiped the excess water onto his pants, but he wasn’t exactly surprised. This whole town felt like it subsisted on the bare minimum, offering only what someone needed and nothing more. If this was the way the locals lived all the time, it was no wonder they weren’t out and about. They probably found life better in their own homes.

Heading back to the table, Seaborne finally cracked a smile as his eyes laid upon the plain, white cup at his seat. The dark liquid inside holding the promise of delicious flavor and refreshing warmth. Even if the coffee wasn’t that good, it was a welcome cup and a dearly needed beverage. Maybe with a little caffeine Seaborne could feel a bit more like his usual self. Sitting down he glanced at Roach, feeling a twinge of guilt for his own crappy behavior. It wasn’t Roach’s fault they were stuck here in this place, and he didn’t deserve the harsh tone from his friend. Taking his first sip, Seaborne promised to try to make things work, and lighten up a little, if only for his partner’s sake.

The coffee wasn’t half bad either.

“Oooh yes,” he sighed, leaning back. “This is what I needed.” Closing his eyes he could feel the caffeine flooding into his brain. As the liquid went down into his stomach, it was as if it was pouring over his mind, waking it up, filling the tight corners of his brain and bringing him to life. “I am never going a morning without this ever again. Ever.” Seeing his friend visibly more cheerful, Roach’s smile returned with vigor.

“Glad to see your feeling better,” he noted. “Mind if I tell that story now?” Not opening his eyes, Seaborne mulled it over a few seconds, getting in the right mindset. He could guess with almost 100% certainty what Roach was going to say.

‘ _Either he saw the town locals up to no good, a creature in the fog, or men in black._ ’ To Roach he just said, “Yeah, go ahead.”

“It wasn’t that far down the road,” Roach began, trying to contain his excitement. “It was like a, uh… like a fairy. I could barely see it through the fog…”

‘ _Called it,_ ’ Seaborne smirked to himself.

“It was short," Roach continued. "Like a kid but it had wings, clearish ones, like gossamer. She was dancing in the mist.”

“Did you say hi?" his partner joked, actually managed to feel slightly amused.

“I didn’t get close enough to make contact,” Roach bemoaned. “She was only there for a few seconds then she disappeared. Now-” he lifted a finger and pointed it at Seaborne- “I know what you’re going to say. My eyes weren’t playing tricks on me. This time. I’m sure of it; I know what I saw.”

“A fairy... In the fog.”

“Yeah. Dancing.” Seaborne paused, taking another sip of coffee.

“Alright.”

“Alright?” Roach scrunched his face, confused.

“Alright," Seaborne confirmed.

“Wait, that’s it?” He held out his hands and Seaborne just shrugged. “Don’t you want to-”

“No, I don’t,” Seaborne interrupted, finally opening his eyes. “I don’t. Whatever it is, I don’t. I just want to sit here, drink my coffee, then get the fixed car from the mechanics and leave. I don’t want to investigate something that will tie us up any longer.” He set down the cup and looked over at his companion with a kind but tired expression. “I want to go home, Roach. I want to get on that stupid plane, and go home. Please.” Roach sighed, looking out the window at the fog, thick as ever. He wanted to argue, but this trip had done a number on them both. There wasn’t a single thing he could say that would change Seaborne’s mind, so he just stayed silent. For now. 

He knew it in his bones: there was definitely something else going on.


	4. Chapter 4

As Roach was finishing up his breakfast, and Seaborne was nibbling on the muffin his partner convinced him to buy, the waitress came back to their table. 

“Any else for you gentlemen?” she asked, resting her hand on one hip. It was almost instinct for Roach’s eyes to glanced down at that hip, jutting out and begging for people to stare. He looked away almost as fast as he looked down, but Seaborne noticed nonetheless. It bothered him more than he would have admitted. Instead he just addressed the woman’s question.

“Just the check please.” Cindy nodded and reached into a pocket on her white apron. 

“Are you going to the festival tomorrow?” Roach suddenly chimed in. “Or do you think it will get canceled ‘cause of the fog?” Seaborne just barely managed to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Still, he wasn’t really surprised. The man never did know when to let things go, especially things that piqued his interest. 

“Oh no, they can’t cancel the festival. It’s the best festival in the whole world!” Looking out the window into the deep, unrelenting white, her usual upbeat expression faded into a doleful frown. “I’d hate for them to cancel it…”

“It’s still early,” Roach offered. “Maybe it’ll clear up.” Cindy looked down at Roach, her face almost blank for a few seconds before breaking back into a smile. 

“They won’t cancel,” she stated, without question or uncertainty. Her eyes bore into the faces of the two men, cheerful yes intense. “You’ll attend, won’t you?” 

“We’ll see,” Seaborne assured her, but it was an empty promise. With any hope he and Roach would be well out of town before any of the festivities began. “The check?”

~ ~ ~

Even the blessing of a freshly caffeinated mind couldn't make the next blow any less disheartening. As Darrell gave Seaborne the news about the car, the agent almost lost it completely.

“What do you mean you can't fix it?!” he yelled, his face growing red. Roach moved to grab his arm, but Seaborne pulled it away before he got the chance. “What's wrong with it?” Darrell didn't flinch; he barely blinked as the other man raged before him. 

“Needs a new V-belt,” he explained. “Needs to be special ordered. Ain't got none in the shop.”

“It's okay,” Roach offered, trying to keep up beat. “We’ll find another way. We can call a cab.”

“Phones don't work,” Darrell noted. A vein pulsed in Seaborne’s head.

“All the phones?” he asked. “There has to be a working phone somewhere in this town.”

“Maybe someone can give us a ride?” Roadhouse suggested. “Is there a bus station?” The mechanic shook his head.

“Ain't none fer miles,” he told them. “And no one is gonna give y'all a ride in this fog.” He glanced out into the white distance. “S’not safe.” Seaborne looked like he wanted to throttle the mechanic but he kept his clenched fists at his sides. Throttling civilians wasn't very professional.

“So what do you suggest we _do_?” he asked, holding on to his last shred of patience. 

“Marble’s got rooms,” Darrell pointed out, nodding towards the direction of the hotel. 

“Are you fu-”

“I can overnight it,” the mechanic interrupted, still maintaining the same casual tone. “Get it tomorrow and fix it then.” Roach stepped between the other two men and patted Seaborne on his chest.

“That doesn't sound bad,” he tried, hoping his friend would let it go. “We can stay one night and head out tomorrow. Think of it as a vacation,” he continued, seeing the annoying gaze on Seaborne’s face turn on him. “We don't have any pressing engagements back home and the fog should be gone by tomorrow. Maybe we can just relax, maybe go to the festival if it ever happens. Whaddya say?” His partner pondered this, mostly contemplating his utter lack of options, before letting out a dejected sigh.

It seemed as though they didn’t have any choice.

~ ~ ~

Miss Marble was quite happy to see the two gentlemen, but the feeling wasn’t exactly mutual. Roach did his best to make up for his partner’s sour mood and luckily the sweet lady didn’t seem to notice either way.

“I have two East facing rooms right across the hall from one another,” she told them, looking over her key collection. “Or would you prefer just one? I’m afraid I don’t have any double rooms left. I have a few with one queen sized bed…”

“The two rooms with be fine,” Seaborne interjected. They never had shared a bed; the shorter agent insisted they always have either two beds or separate rooms. While he never explained his preferences, Roach always just let it happen. There was no way that he could understand that his partner and best friend simply didn’t trust his unconscious self. Not where Roach was concerned. “Non-smoking.”

“Of course, dear.” Miss Marble handed over the two keys. “Second floor by the vending machines.” Wanting to make sure the room was clean enough, Seaborne headed up to check it out without so much as a thank you. Roach, of course, followed suit but did offer a short thanks.

“I haven't seen any staff,” he man noted on their way down the hall and towards the closest stairs to the second floor. “Do you think she cleans the rooms by herself?”

“Even a small hotel this size needs some sort of staff,” Seaborne guessed. “Just because we haven't seen them doesn’t mean they don’t exist.” Their rooms were directly across from one another, as promised. They paused by the first one and Seaborne unlocked the door. It was an old fashioned lock, like one would find in a house, not like the electronic scanners he was used to seeing in present day modern buildings. Inside was a decent sized room with a twin bed on the left wall flanked by matching nightstands. Above the short headboard hung a rather disturbing portrait of an unconscious (or possibly distraught) woman laid out on her back. A monster, like a brown trollish creature, was sitting on top of her, while a horse looking in from behind a curtain. Seaborne leaned over to read the signature in the bottom left corner: ‘J. H. Fuseli’. 

“Charming,” he noted sardonically. After thinking about it for a second, he grabbed the frame of the painting and removed it from the wall.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m not looking at this while I’m staying here,” Seaborne explained. “I’m sure as hell not letting it watch me sleep.” Opening the room’s closet, he slid the offending art inside and shut the folded doors in front of it. Next he went to check out the small bathroom, mostly to make sure that there wasn’t any more strange artwork to be found. It looked fairly normal, aside from the blank space where a mirror might hang. The dull pink paint was faded and worn. The tiny shower was in a similar state, with water stains on the back wall and floor. Seaborne turned his lip up at the sight, noticing internally not to take a shower while staying here. 

Once they cursory inspection of the room was complete, the two men headed across the hall to Roach’s room and it looked nearly identical in appearance. The furniture was a complete match, down to the ugly yellow and white curtains, but the picture over the bed was different. Instead of a macrame painting of a demonic creature and a woman, it was a very artistic rendering of the X-Files ‘I want to believe’ poster. Roach grinned.

“I used to love that show,” he commented. “Man. I hear they’re renewing the series…”

“Very eclectic tastes they have here,” Seaborne noted, shuffling back towards his room. His partner followed close behind, eager to head back into the fog now that there was time to investigate. Back in the first room, Seaborne didn’t seem to want to go anywhere. He slipped off his suit jacket and slung it over the end of the bed. He un-holstered his pistol, setting it inside the drawer of the nightstand, then removed the gun harness from his torso.

“I was thinking we can charge our phones and then head out and get some pictures of the fog,” Roach suggested as Seaborne undid his tie. “The waitress told me about her uncle who- Are you taking a nap?” With a charming smile and a gentle nod, Seaborne slipped out of his shoes and flopped onto the bed, spread eagle.

“You got to sleep in the car, Roach,” he explained. “You go ahead and explore. I’m gonna try and get some winks, okay?” Adjusting his head perfectly on the pillow, he closed his eyes. Roach’s shoulders slumped; he was looking forward to doing some old fashioned investigating with his best friend, but he couldn't blame him for wanting to take a break. Plus, he looked so content lying there, Roach hated to make him get up.

“I’m going to head to the library; pay Cindy’s uncle a visit,” Roach told him. “I’ll be back before too long, an' then maybe we can have supper.” Without opening his eyes, Seaborne chuckled.

“You just ate and you’re thinking about food?”

“I’m not hungry now, but I will be. Just planning ahead.” With one last goodbye, Roach headed out, closing the door behind him. He didn’t see the last squinting glance of his friend watching him leave, and the sweet, knowing smile on his face.

‘ _You dork,_ ’ Seaborne thought, ignoring the swell of love in his heart.

~ ~ ~

Before heading out Roach made sure to plug his phone charger into the wall behind his nightstand. Hopefully by the time he got back it would be charged enough to make a phone call. He didn’t expect to be gone very long but, then again, nothing in this town had gone has expected so far.

The library was on the far end of town, past the courthouse and police station. It was a grand building, well over four stories tall with massive pillars out front and all the windows were tinted grey. Like the rest of the town there didn’t seem to be any people about, nearby or on the steps of the place, but Roach just figured people weren’t big on reading here. The large oak double doors opened into a moderately sized lobby, with marbled floors and paneled walls and a large C-shaped counter in the center. It was almost completely bare, save for a single bell at one end that looked suspiciously identical to the one at the hotel. There wasn’t a person insight so Roach shrugged to himself and rung the bell.

After a second or two, a face peered around the wide archway at the back of the room. Roach wondered why he hadn’t noticed the opening before. It led to a large room beyond, no doubt the actual library section of the building. The face, small and beady-eyed, seemed to belong to a short man with wild, greying hair. He seemed very surprised to see someone in the lobby. As his gaze traveled up the length of Roach’s incredible height, his eyes grew even wider.

“Hello?” Roach greeted, friendly but confused. The man jumped at the sound, looking around as if trying to find the source of this trick before him. Finally he snuck out from the other room, hunched slightly and holding his arms close to his chest.

“Y-you’re real?” he stammered, uncertain. “Are you real?”

“I am,” the agent assured him. He patted his torso for emphasis. “Solid and sturdy. Name’s Roach.” The tiny man scooted towards the counter. Really there wasn’t a better word for how he moved. His feet didn’t seem to leave the ground as they slid, one after the other, along the smooth surface. His eyes flickered around the room, wide and paranoid. They didn’t stop until his feet did, focusing on Roach’s face like a pair of lasers. “Are you the librarian?”

“I don’t know you,” he said, more to himself than Roach.

“Uh, don’t think so. Me and my partner just arrived today.” This news seemed to startle the man all over again, making his eyes glance around the room once more, his head kept completely still. 

“There’s another one?” Before Roach could do more than nod the man continued. “Why did you come here?”

“Well our car broke down just outside of town,” Roach began. “I came here because your niece-” The stranger made a surprised grunt and took a step back. Roach was a bit at a loss for words. “Something wrong?”

“I don’t have a niece,” he stated.


	5. Chapter 5

Seaborne had always been able to fall asleep at the drop of a hat, but even he was surprised by how easily he slipped into unconsciousness in this strange hotel. After what felt like a long and very disappointing day, all he wanted to do was just lay down, turn off all thought and get stupid. Still, he couldn’t keep himself from thinking a few stray thoughts, here and there. Like, why didn’t this room have a TV? Weren’t they standard issue nowadays? Even sleazy motels on the interstate had TVs. They also had vibrating beds called ‘magic fingers’. Or, at least, they used to. Why were they called that? What made them ‘magic’? They were just a motor attached to the bed frame. They didn’t really feel like fingers, or even hands.

‘ _I could really go for a massage right now,_ ’ he thought to himself, lying flat on his back. As he closed his eyes he thought about the last time he'd had a massage. It had been years back, in a kiosk at the mall. It had been a fairly pleasant experience. If he had not been in full view of the public eye he might have even fallen asleep. Now he just lay there on the hotel bed and waited for sleep to take him, eventually drifting off into what he hoped would be an equally pleasant, and uneventful, slumber.

He couldn’t be sure how long he had been asleep when something touched his leg. Too far gone to care what it was, he adjusted his leg and tried to get back to dreamland. The touch became a nudge, persisting no matter how many times he moved. Sitting up on his elbows, he peered over his body on top of the covers, to see what could possibly have the audacity to bother him when he was trying to rest.

Nothing. No one, no thing, just nothing. Sighing and lamenting his over-active imagination, he lay back down, hoping that now he could finally get some shut eye. Only a few minutes later, the nudging returned, this time on both legs. Getting angry now, Seaborne sat backup, preparing to fully get off the bed if he had to, trying to figure out what was bothering him. He didn’t have time to move one leg when two hands reached up through the comforter, as if it was water, and grab both of his ankles in a vice-like grip. Crying out in surprise, Seaborne tried to pull away but the hands held him fast, keeping him from moving even a single inch.

“R-Roach!” he yelled, hoping his partner and friend had returned early and was in earshot. “Help!” No reply. He tried pulling again but to no avail. Then, his eyes transfixed on the mysterious hands around his ankles, he didn’t see as two more hands emerged from the bed, this time near his arms. They each grabbed a shoulder and held on tight, clasping him down and unable to get up. Seaborne was seriously starting to freak out now, restrained on his bed by four hands that seemed to have materialized out of nowhere. He yelled again. “Anybody! HELP!!” But no help arrived.

More hands appeared but, unlike the first four, these didn’t latch onto to him but grabbed loose parts of his clothing. They took hold of his jacket, the waistband of his pants, even the brim of his socks. He wiggled, trying to encourage them to stop but they continued, unabated, and slowly their mission became clear. As he watched those on his jacket pulled apart his lapels, exposing his white, buttoned-up shirt. Others reached around to the front of his pants and unzipped them while still more began to pull down the pants entirely.

“Hey!” Seaborne complained, not really yelling now. He was more confused than annoyed but fear still radiated in his veins. Trapped, and now this? The more he tried to stop the hands the tighter the original four gripped his arms and legs. It was getting painful now; only when he settled down did they loosen enough so it didn’t hurt but not nearly enough that he could escape. The rest of the hands continued their work, slowly removing his jacket and pants as best they could with the first four in place.

Once his pants were crumbled around his feet, the hands slide up his legs to his boxers and he jerked his leg instinctively. Two new hands came up around his middle, gently but firmly holding his waist in place as other hands reached the hem of his boxers. More crawled over his chest, deftly unbuttoning one button after another until they could spread open his shirt. The chill air of the hotel room blew over his half-naked body and his nipples went stiff. Fingers, warm and delicate, danced along his skin, their tips finding Seaborne’s sensitive nips and pinching them ever so lightly. It didn’t hurt and he couldn't help but let out an unexpected gasp of pleasure. No one had ever played with his nipples before. It felt strangely… good.

Almost as if his puff of exhalation was permission to take things further, the hands around his boxers took hold of the cloth-covered elastic band and dragged them down to meet the pants, leaving Seaborne completely bare and exposed. His knees turned together as if he could stop them or hide his shame from whomever or whatever was watching but it was no use. His actual hands were held too far away to be of any use in covering himself and he was left to the whim of the seemingly endless swarm of hands that continued to spring from the bed, most of which were finding new places on his body to hold him still.

Then there were others that neither grasped clothing nor limbs, only serving to gently fondle along his skin, tender and sweet as from a lover’s caress. Hands attached to arms attached to something inside the bed, and all of them looking vaguely familiar. Seaborne’s mind couldn’t concentrate on figuring out that mystery, however. His fear was slowly being replaced by something else, something he didn’t want to admit. Something that was growing with each passing second.

More hands, two more between his legs, their palms slithering up between Seaborne’s newly exposed thighs and planting themselves firmly on his skin. He shivered from their touch, sensing their motives before they even started pulling his legs apart, inch by inch, the hands holding his ankles adjusting so his legs could be separated with ease. Only once his legs had been situated however these mysterious appendages wanted, did they finally stop moving him about and just messaged him for a short while. Fingers continued to tweak his nipples, hands pawed at his legs and waist. It was almost like they were waiting for something and Seaborne was positive he wasn’t going to like what came next.

Seaborne didn’t notice it, at first, hidden beyond his view by his own body, but when a hand much larger than the others rose up from between his legs he definitely took notice. He let out a new cry of surprise and fear as the big hand hovered over his naked pelvis. It lingered but a moment, fingers twitching, before descending slowly only the man’s unprotected privates. He expected it to be cold, its touch abrasive, but it was warm and soft, cradling Seaborne’s genitals as it settled down upon them. There it began to undulate, kneading and fondling. Against his wishes, Seaborne felt himself enjoying the sensation, felt his body responding. He fought against it but, try though he might, he couldn’t stop himself from getting stiff from the stimulation.

As his cock swelled, burgeoning into a massive erection, Seaborne resigned to his fate. Slumping back against the bed he let the talented hands have their way, seeing no way to escape and less and less reason to. The big hand felt amazing and it was more action that he’d had in years. It seemed that these things didn’t really wish him harm and he was more than willing to let them do him right. He moaned unabashedly at the ceiling and the biggest hand switched from mild massage to pumping up and down. The strokes were short but slow, the hand covering most of his length with its fist. It was doing wonders and Seaborne was sure he would finish in no time. He didn’t know what would happen after but he didn’t really care at the moment.

His next surprise came far less subtlety, and shook him from his sexual stupor with a jolt. A poke, sudden and cold, hit him right against his taint and, had it not been for the many many hands now holding him down, he might have jumped right out of bed from surprise. It wasn’t painful, though, but wet and curious, tracing along his skin from his scrotum all the way back towards his butt. Immediately Seaborne clenched down tight. So far these hands had done very little to actually hurt him but there was no way he was going to let anything they had to produce inside his butt. He had never been one for that kind of experimentation and he wasn’t about to start now.

Tenacious the mysterious digit circled around the man’s tight muscle, coating it with something slippery and wet. The attached palm rested against his backside as what felt like its middle finger began to incessantly rub against his entrance, feeling its way around the rim, waiting for its chance to invade. The big hand continued its exquisite work, taking Seaborne towards the edges of completion only to slow its pace once more and pull him back. The mix of pleasure with the threat of intrusion confused his brain and his dick, so much so that eventually he couldn’t hold back anymore. He needed to finish; the tease of edging was driving him insane and if these hands wanted in, if that’s what it would take to let him finish, then so be it. Anything to finally be allowed to come.

The moment he released the clamp on his butt, the finger thrust inside. With its tip it explored upwards, the wet coating making its journey both easy and painless for both the finger and Seaborne. Meticulously it made its way, easing along but obviously determined to find something. The other hand’s never paused once as they soothed the man’s tensions, frisking and pawing, stroking and squeezing everywhere they could reach. All fear was soon gone from Seaborne’s mind and once again he abandoned himself to sensation.

Eventually the finger found its prize: a small bundle of nerves only a few inches inside. Pressing against it sent new rivers of ecstasy through the man’s body. He had no idea such pleasures could be given with such a technique. He opened himself fully to the hands, letting them mold him like clay, letting them play with him however they liked. The finger pushed again and Seaborne felt a glob of precome spurt from his cock. The giant hand rubbed its giant thumb over the man’s moistened dick, spreading the liquid and using it to stroke even faster. It was too much. It wasn’t enough.

A second finger joined the first inside him, than a third. The three fingers shifted and wiggled inside, touching places he didn’t even know were capable of feeling anything let alone such wonderful, sensual things. With the fingers thrusting in his backside and the giant hand on his front, he was overwhelmed with rapture. Just when he thought he might ascend to the next plane of existence, his body went stiff and the muscles in his abdomen clenched down hard. All of the hands kept still as Seaborne climaxed, supporting all of him as he sprayed lines of white over them and himself, over and over until he was completely spent.

Collapsing in an unmovable heap, and panting for breath, Seaborne felt the afterglow of his orgasm wash over his entire being. He could also feel the numerous hands letting go of his various parts, one by one, and shift back down into the bed once again. A delirious smile crossed his face as he realized he was sad to see them go, more sad to no longer feel their loving embrace. They had brought him such joy, such euphoria, he didn’t even have a chance to thank them. Only when he actually opened his eyes did he realize that they had never even been there at all.

He blinked and looked down. His clothes were untouched, situated normally on his body. There was no sign of the hands or his ejaculation. He could still feel the remnants of touch everywhere, a shadow of the hands on his arms and legs, on his limp member, even inside him, but as far as he could tell it had only been a dream. Nothing like any dream he had ever had, but a dream nonetheless. There was almost a sense of disappointment at that fact but he pushed it aside. It’s not like he really wanted hands like those that had assaulted him to actually exist in the real world. What a crazy thought.


	6. Chapter 6

Roach was a bit dumbfounded at the news the librarian had just given him, to say the least. Not quite shocked, but more than a little confused as to why anyone would lie about having an uncle. Then again, this gentleman was behaving rather strangely. Maybe he was mistaken; perhaps he wasn’t all there, in a manner of speaking. After a second or two the stranger seemed to forget his own surprise and went back to looking over the FBI agent before him. Roach cleared his throat.

“Anyway, I was told that you knew something about, uh…. little people? In the fog?” Instead of answering, ‘uncle’ began investigating Roach’s suit, feeling the fabric and turning over what he could to get a better look. “Mr…?”

“Deneir,” the stranger filled in, not looking up from Roach’s seemingly interesting tie. He turned over a lapel, revealing the inner pocket, and before Roach could stop him, pulled out a wallet.

“Hey!” Roach tried to grab it back but Mr. Deneir was quick, stepping out of reach before opening up the wallet and looking inside. Roach’s badge was unmistakable and Mr. Denier's eyes widened at the sight.

“FBI?” he asked, actually looking at Roach this time. Roach nodded, stepping closer in the hopes that Mr. Deneir would now give back the wallet. “You’re investigating Ravenvale?”

“Uh, yes,” Roach lied. His hopes that now this strange man would finally answers some questions raised slightly. “My partner and I just arrived today. What can you tell me about what’s going on?” Deneir’s eyes shone with excitement and a grin appeared on his face as he placed the walled on the counter, ignoring Roach’s outstretched hand. He scurried back into the next room, leaving the FBI agent rather confused. Snatching up his wallet and tucking it away, Roach rushed to catch up.

The library was decently sized, with rows and rows of bookcases filling most of the main floor. A mezzanine level overlooked the open space with shorter shelves, tables and computers set up as well. The entire place was certainly set up to be a library, but as Roach stepped into the room he noticed that something was amiss. Dozens if not hundreds of books lie scattered across the floor, littering between the shelves and isles with no rhyme or reason for how they’d been toss about. Deneir moved about them, quickly but delicately, looking for something in particular. Finally he grabbed up the only open book and made his way back to the rather dumbfounded agent.

“I’ve been doing research-” he began with a strong tone of detachedness. Roach couldn’t hold back a soft chuckle.

“I can see that.” He did his best to avoid the piles and piles of books in order to reach over and take the offered one. The page was opened to two pages lined with very small text and an artistic rendering of a very familiar figure. “The tiny woman,” he whispered. It was obviously hand-drawn, and there was zero sense of scale, but the form was unmistakable. Deneir nodded enthusiastically, tapping the image a few times for emphasis.

“They live in the mist,” he explained. “You’ve seen them?” Roach nodded, not looking away from the drawing for a moment. “Everyone says I’m crazy, but I know… I know the truth. I’ve seen them, too.” His curiosity peaked, Roach couldn’t help but smile himself. He hoped that finally, at long last, he’d found something real. Something that couldn’t be explained by science or reason. Something… alien.

“What are they?” His hopes hadn’t been this high since the Navy reported unusual sightings off the coast of Florida back in 2015. Those hopes were a bit lowered when Deneir answered his question.

“Leirans,” he stated. “Fey, fairies, sprites,” he continued. Each word make Roach’s hope fade further. Fey? Fairies? As in, mythical creatures?

“So…” he began, still clinging to the last shred of hope in his heart. “N-not aliens?” Deneir shook his head vigorously before answering.

“Nope.” Roach’s face fell. “Leirans. Much worse.” Deneir stepped away, bending down to sift through his massive pile of books, obviously looking for something else. “They worship the Lady of the Mist.” He looked up, briefly, to add: “Get it?”

“Right,” Roach agreed, absentmindedly. He looked back to the drawing, trying to decide if this was indeed what he had seen in the fog. “Mist.” He had so hoped he had finally discovered proof of aliens. Still, it wasn’t a total loss. Fairies weren’t aliens, but they weren’t human either. They weren’t Bigfoot, or the Chupacabra, but they were mythical. Roach wanted to- needed to know more. “What do they want?”

Deneir didn’t seem to hear him as he scoured the massive inventory before him, trying to find some elusive book, so Roach repeated the question louder. Eventually Deneir looked up, his eyes slightly glazed over as he took in the sight of the tall man who was speaking to him.

“The book- the book!” he exclaimed. “Just read the book. I’m reading.” He was, in fact, not reading but still looking for whatever book he probably wanted to read, but Roach took his advice anyway.

“Fairy, also known as Fey, Fairfolk or sprites,” he read aloud. “Are mythical beings from Europeon folklore. They are a form of spirit, often described as metaphysical, supernatural, or preternatural.” He paused, thinking about this. “Preternatural… like demons? Witches?” Deneir, of course, didn’t answer. Roach read on. “While their true form is unknown, they often appear as humanoid, small in stature, with magical powers, and a penchant for trickery.”

“Tricksters!” Deneir suddenly shouted from across the room. Roach looked up, expecting more, but Deneir wasn’t even looking up.

“A common feature of the fairies is the use of magic to disguise appearance,” the passage continued. “Fairy gold is notoriously unreliable, appearing as gold when paid but soon thereafter revealing itself to be leaves, gorse blossoms, gingerbread cakes, or a variety of other comparatively worthless things.”

“Fake gold, fake treasures, fake, fake, fake…” By now Roach had learned to ignore Deneir’s random bouts of input and moved on to the next paragraph.

“While they rarely interact with humans, more playful fey have been known to play tricks on people.” So far Roach didn’t see any proof that the woman he’d seen was playing a trick. Unless… “Do you think fairies are causing the fog?” At last Deneir paused a few moments before looking up, realization crossing his face.

“Yes!” he shouted, making Roach jump from the volume. Deneir pointed at him, his eyes wide and crazy. “Yes, that’s it!” Bending down he snatched up what had to be the first book he saw, opened it up to a random page and began to read. “Lady of the Mists, The Guardian of Liars, Maiden of the Mist…”

“A fairy queen?” Roach guessed, trying to carefully walk around the books to get to him.

“Leira!” Even though Roach was almost standing next to him, Denier’s shout was no more quiet than before. “Mother of Illusionists, The Mistshadow.” Finally, Roach reached him, but just as he was about to look at the book the man was holding, Deneir snap it shut and tossed it behind him in one fluid motion. “Not a queen,” he answered. “But she’s dead. She’s dead?” He repeated the words as if he had confused himself. “She’s dead, she died…” He continued to ramble as he went back to searching and Roach found that’d he’d had enough. Maybe he could come back when Deneir was more calm, or when Seaborne could come with him. Until then, he wanted to show Seaborne this book and tell him what he had seen.

Until then, he had a book to read.

~ ~ ~

Seaborne was alone at the diner, staring into a cup of fresh coffee, decaf this time, when his partner came in looking for him. He was deep in thought, thinking about the dream he’d just had, trying to decide if he wanted to have it again, and didn’t hear when Roach started speaking.

“You awake, Seaborne?” the taller man was asking.

“Hmm? Oh, I’m sorry.” Seaborne took a deep breath and stretched his back. “Guess I’m still a little groggy from my nap.”

“That good, huh?” Roach mused casually as he looked for the waitress. Seaborne hid a smile behind a sip of his coffee and gave a non-committal ‘Mmm’ noise. Not really interested in the answer, Roach moved on to something much more important than hearing about how his partner’s nap went. After ordering his own beverage, Roach placed the book that Deneir had given him, on the center of the table.

“What’s this?” Instead of answering Seaborne’s question, Roach opened to the bookmarked page showing the entry he’d read earlier. Seaborne read the headline out loud. “Fairy. Not your usual research.”

“Deneir- uh... the, um, librarian, gave it to me.” He pointed at the image that dominated the page. “This is the woman I saw. The uh, thing, I saw in the fog.”

“I see. Still convinced you saw a fairy?” Seaborne asked, trying to understand what Roach was telling him.

“No, I _did_ see it.” Roach paused, concerned that he wasn’t explaining himself correctly. “I mean, I saw this. This is what I saw dancing in the fog.” He tapped the book for emphasis. With a sigh, Seaborne set his coffee aside and slide the book closer to him. He turned it around to read the text. Roach watched as his friend’s eyes scanned over the pages, reading the text that he himself had read not long ago.

“Fairy tricksters are often drawn to the unconscious desires of humans,” he read aloud. “What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure,” Roach admitted. “But this is _definitely_ what I saw. Deneir also called them Leirans. I think they might have something to do with the fog-” Seaborne interrupted his partner’s thought by pushing the book back towards him.

“Are all the entries in that book this bizarre?” he asked with a grin. Roach glanced around before learning forward and shoving the book right back.

“That’s just it,” he whispered. “It’s the _only_ entry in the book.” As he said this, he turned the page of the book revealing a completely blank page. Over and over he turned pages, each one just as blank, and Seaborne finally took notice. That was odd indeed, to say the least.

“Weird book,” he commented, taking it in his hands now to check the rest of the pages. It didn’t take long to find out that Roach was right: there was just the one entry. Except for the two pages on fairies, the entire book was blank. “You said the librarian gave you this?”

“Yeah… he was a bit odd, to be honest.” Sitting up straight he sent his partner a look to be quiet as the waitress came over with another coffee. Roach thanked her briefly, waiting until she left again before continuing. “He said he didn’t have a niece,” he stated firmly, raising his eyebrows as if he made a very important addition. Seaborne just looked at him, confused, before shaking his head.

“Well,” he sighed. “That is weird.” Sipping his coffee, Seaborne sat back in his chair and stared out the window at the damned fog that was still thick as ever. Roach waiting for his partner to say more but it quickly became obvious that Seaborne was done talking.

“I think we should inves-”

“Uh, uh.” Seaborne nearly spit out his coffee as he turned down Roach’s idea before he could even finish the thought. “No way. You’re not pulling me into another wild goose chase before I’ve had a break from the last one.”

“But you just said it yourself; it’s weird.” Giving his partner his bet puppy-dog eyes, Roach hoped it would work as it had many times before. This time however, Seaborne was far too sick of this town to fall for anything of the sort.

“Yes,” he admitted. “It’s weird. The people are weird, the town is weird, lots of things are weird BUT! I. Don’t. Care. I want to go home. I want to sleep in my own bed, use my own shower, and eat my cereal in my own house. After that you can tell me everything you think you’ve figured out about this horrible town to your heart’s content. Until then, I just want to go home. Okay?” Thoroughly downtrodden, Roach didn’t argue but slumped in his chair, defeated. He didn’t answer; he didn’t have to. Seaborne had won and that was that.

The two of them sat in silence as Seaborne finished his drink. Roach looked out the window at the fog, the small hope that the fairy lady might reappear, heavy on his heart. He placed his large hands flat on the table, slowly rubbing the tips of his thumbs together, mindlessly. Seaborne couldn’t help but stare at those hands… wondering…

“What is it?” Roach asked, upon catching Seaborne staring. Immediately the shorter man looked somewhere else.

“Nothing,” he lied. After a few more seconds of quiet, Roach couldn’t take it any longer. He grabbed up the book and got to his feet. “What are you going?”

“You may not want to investigate,” he explained. “But I do.” He was halfway to the door before Seaborne could respond.

“What’s the point?” he explained. “We’re leaving tomorrow.” Roach didn’t listen. “What about supper?” Seaborne added, yelling this time, but his partner was already gone. Grumbling to himself, he waved down the waitress. Maybe some food would cheer him up.


	7. Chapter 7

Roach stopped by his room before heading out again, to grab his cellphone which he was certain was fully charged by now. It was quite a surprise when he picked it up and it was still completely dead. He plugged it in again, pressing the on button just to make sure, and sure enough the charging symbol showed up. Not that it meant anything. If it had been charging, it would be done by now. Frustrated, Roach tried a different socket. If that one didn’t work, he’d have words with Mrs. Marble.

In the meantime, he wanted to head back to the library for answers about the strange book with so many blank pages. He dearly wished that his partner, and dearest friend, would join him in this investigation. To be fair, Seaborne had followed Roach on many a wild goose chase over the years. Sure he’d complained during all of them, but that never bothered Roach. That was just the shorter man’s personality. Deep inside he wasn’t nearly as crass as people thought, he just didn’t want anyone to _know_ that he wasn’t crass. Not even Roach, his best friend. Of course, Roach knew better. It was Seaborne’s true nature- sweet and gentle- that was just part of the reason Roach loved him.

That being said, there were times when Seaborne’s down-right stubbornness drove his partner absolutely crazy. Even when the evidence was right there in front of him, he’d refused to acknowledge it. Sure, Roach understood why his friend was stressed out and didn’t want to deal with anything right now, but he wasn’t going to give up until he’d solved the mystery that was all around them. It was there, he knew it, and while he didn’t know how, he was determined to solve it. First step: the library.

It was just where he’d left it, though there was a small part of him that had half-thought it would have vanished. The dense fog wrapped around it as if any second it would be pulled into the ether, but it stood defiant, strong and firm against the mist. It was almost intimidating as the sun set beside it, leaving an immense shadow over the landscape, punctuated with the glow of yellowed street lights just starting to come on. Roach was undaunted, taking the concrete steps two and a time with his long legs to reach the towering front doors. They were unlocked, as before, despite the increasing late hour, and Roach practically marched inside to look for Deneir.

He was nowhere to be found. What’s more, as Roach ventured into the more wide-open part of the building he noticed the stacks upon stacks of books were gone as well. They had all seemingly returned to their proper places on the shelves that lined the room. Roach shook his head; he was having a hard time believing that Deneir had managed to clean them all up on his own so quickly. Every book was in its place and not a single shelf looked untidy. It was the model of orderly and it felt… wrong. 

“Deneir?” Roach called out, his voice echoing in the large space. There was no answer. “Hello?” His pace was slow, but his stride broad as he walked down the center isle, looking for any sign that he wasn’t alone. He almost expected someone to jump out at him and yell ‘boo!’ but when that didn’t happen, he took it upon himself to investigate the books while he had this chance.

Glancing around one last time, just in case, he approached the nearest shelf and picked a book at random. It was a book Roach had never even heard of, let alone read. He flipped to a random page and, like those of the other book, it was completely blank. Dropping the book, he grabbed a second and immediately opened it; it was blank, too. Another book: blank. Flabbergasted now, Roach starting scoring the shelf, looking at book after book- page after page. All blank. He tried another shelf, another section, nothing. 

He was about to give up finding another written word in this outlandish when he got to the science fiction section; a personal favorite. He grabbed up 1984, a book that he’d read many times, and opened to a random page. At last, text, words and paragraphs covered the paper in his hand, just as he remembered them the last time he’d read this book. He turned the page; more texts, more words from the book that he loved. He flipped through the whole book and there didn’t seem to be a single page out of place. Encouraged and more confused than ever, he grabbed up another book he knew: Dune. Just like 1984, Dune had words (as one might expect for a book in a library) written on every page. 

After looking through a few more books he knew, and some that he didn’t, he came to a rather strange conclusion. Only the books he’d read in the past had text, the rest were blank.

~ ~ ~

The delicious meal of chicken and waffles did much to fill Seaborne’s stomach, but little to settle his mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about the dream, and the more he thought about it, the more the hands he had envisioned resembled those of his best friend. He tried to tell himself that he was just fooling himself, that his dream and Roach were completely unrelated, but in the end it made sense. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d dreamt about his partner, but this had definitely been the most vivid dream that he could remember. It was frustrating, not being able to control what one dreams about. He thought that he’d gotten to a good place with his feelings for Roach; that it was only a harmless crush that would fade in time. Apparently, that just wasn’t the case.

Once he had paid for his meal, Seaborne returned to the hotel to check on his phone. It was an eerie walk, traveling alone on the foggy streets of town. A glance at his watch told him the late evening hour, but other than the dimming light he wouldn't have been able to tell. The sun was still nowhere to be seen and it didn’t look like it would show its face anytime soon. At least the overcast day left the dense, humid air relatively cool, much cooler than he’d expect in this part of the country at this time of year. The low temperature probably contributed to the strange fog… or the fog was making it colder than usual. Either way, it was a pleasant feature in an otherwise disappointing day.

He was almost relaxed by the time he reached his hotel room, thinking about how there was only one night between him and heading home. His nearly positive attitude was shattered as he looked at the wall just above the bed. The hideous painting that he had stuffed in the closet mere hours ago had returned to its previous position in plain sight, grisly and taunting. Seaborne stopped short at the sight, pausing for a few seconds before rationalizing that the maid staff must have come in and put it back. The rest of the room looked spotless as well; the bed was perfectly maid for example. Shaking out the odd thoughts that had started to gather in his weary mind, he chuckled at what he had almost believed. 

‘ _Roach must be rubbing off on me,_ ’ he mused. With a grunt he pulled the painting off of the wall and, once again, stuffed it into the closet. After closing the door, he turned to his phone still sitting on the end table. As he picked up the small device however, his mood soured even further. Despite being plugged in for half the day, it was still completely dead. More frustrated than confused, Seaborne just figured the hotel was in need of repairs and the wall socket was busted. Since the table lamp was plugged in to a separate outlet, he turned it on to check that it worked. It was dim, but functional. Encouraged, he unplugged it and replaced its plug with that of his phone charger. He’d have to give it a few more minutes before knowing if he’d successfully fixed it. 

Meanwhile he wanted to check on Darrel and Doug, to make sure that they actually ordered the parts for the car. Not that he didn’t trust them… no, that’s exactly what it was. He didn’t trust anyone in this town right now. He really didn’t want Roach to be right about what he’d seen, but he couldn’t deny that he had his own reservations about the whole place. Something wasn’t right in the town of Ravenvale, that was for sure.

‘ _Not fairies, though,_ ’ he joked to himself. Roach had a great intuition for knowing when there was something going on beneath the surface, but his wild imagination often caused his rational investigations to miss the mark. That’s usually when Seaborne stepped in to make more down to Earth conclusions. Together they made a great team. As he stepped outside once more he thought about this and it made him smile. Seconds later his smile faded. He shouldn’t have let Roach go back to the library alone, he should have gone with him. Pausing in the middle of the road he glanced in the libraries direction, though he couldn’t see it at all from his distance, and contemplated his choice. With one last sigh he figured he could check in at the garage later; he had to make sure Roach was alright.

As he headed down the road he looked around but there was still no sign of life in this fog-filled town. He saw no one, heard no one either. In fact, come to think of it, he didn’t hear anything but his own footsteps- no birds chirping, no dogs barking, not even the buzzing of insects as one might expect at this late hour. Seaborne came to a full stop and just listened. Nothing. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard such quiet. The world was deathly silent; even the wind wasn’t blowing. It was haunting in its serenity.

But then, a noise, the flutter of wings coming from somewhere unseen. Seaborne whipped around, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound, but it was gone. It had to have been a bird of some kind, right? As if his thoughts had been spoken aloud, there was a tiny giggle in response, high-pitched and melodic. It was faint, distant, or perhaps from someone very small, and it seemed to come from all around. It was gone in an instant and Seaborne was once again left alone with the unrelenting silence. A sense of dread washed over the agent before he could stop it, and he refused to let it stay. Resuming his walk towards the library, Seaborne began humming to himself to replace the silence and distract him from his unreasonable fear. It was a bird, nothing more. A small, giggling bird. Maybe it had been a chirp, or a chitter. Something that sounded like giggling but really wasn’t. Encouraged by his own rationalization, he felt better almost immediately.

‘ _Just a bird,_ ’ he thought, convincing himself. ‘ _What else would it be?_ ’ Not letting his brain give him any suggestions, he started humming louder and quickened his pace. He dearly wished he’d gone with Roach when he had the chance.

When the great, brick building finally came into view, Seaborne felt his spirits lifted quite a bit. He took the steps two at a time as he raced to open the front doors. Once inside he immediately called for his friend, his voice echoing loudly in the marble-lined rooms. After a second or two he heard a reply; it was Roach.

“I’m in here!” came the voice from the next room. Seaborne followed it into the large chamber behind the lobby and found his friend and partner sprawled on a pile of books on the floor. “You’ve got to see this.”

“What on Earth are you doing?” Seaborne exclaimed. His harsh tone was softened by his delight in finding Roach unharmed. Not that he expected him to be hurt…

“Here!” Roach interrupted his friend’s inner thoughts by standing up and shoving a book at him. “Read this.” There were more questions Seaborne wanted to ask, but Roach looked incredibly adamant. Skeptical of the taller man’s motivations, he opened the book up as instructed but all the pages were blank. There was nothing to read.

“What’s this all about?” he asked. Instead of answering right away, Roach snatched up another book and passed it with equal force as before at his friend.

“And this one.” It didn’t take long for Seaborne to realize that they were all blank and he told his friend so. “Wait…” Roach held up a finger for emphasis as he scoured through the pile of books for a very specific one. “Open this one.” It was Dune, a book Seaborne had heard of but never read. He opened it up and, to his surprise, there was text inside. 

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t either,” Roach admitted, looking back over his collection of blank books. “I’ve looked through dozens of these books and they are all blank except for the ones I’ve read before.”

“Well, I’ve never read Dune,’ Seaborne noted. Roach thought about this for a second before an idea popped into his head.

“Quick!” he exclaimed. “Name a book you’ve read that I haven’t.”

“Uh, I don’t know.” He had to think about that one for a moment, not because the answer wasn’t obvious but because he wasn’t sure what his friend was getting at. “Have you read any of the Sherlock books? The Hounds of Baskerville?” It was one of his favorites; he adored the entire Sherlock collection. 

“I have not!” Roach seemed overly excited to have not read the book in question and ran off into the isles to find it. A few minutes later there was an excited shout of “Ah-HA!” from his direction followed by the sound of heavy footfalls rushing back. Roach nearly fell as he slid to a stop in front of Seaborne. “Look! Words!” Indeed, as Seaborne looked at the book he’d read multiple times before there was text just like a normal book. “I’ve never read this book,” Roach was explaining as Seaborne tried to get his head around this strange place. “But you have!”

“W… what does that mean?” Seaborne wondered. Roach paused, chewing on his lip.

“I don’t know,” he admitted slowly with a frown. “But! I’ll tell you one thing: something not normal is going on here.”

“Please don’t say aliens,” his partner begged. Roach gave him a sly, knowing smile. “You think it’s aliens.”

“You know me so well,” he mused.


	8. Chapter 8

The two men sat on the floor between the science fiction section and the mystery section of the library, exchanging novels to see if their newest theory was correct. They sat opposite each other, a mountain of books between them and dozens more that they’ve tossed aside behind them. Very little was spoken, except to confirm whether or not a certain book had text inside. There didn’t seem to be much that needed to be said. They were both thinking the same thing and the same uneasiness was building in their stomachs.

“Blank,” Seaborne was saying. “Haven’t read it.” He tossed another empty book to the side.

“Text. Read it,” Roach noted, monotonous and tired. He threw it in another direction, though they had long ago given up on organizing the books by contents. 

“Text. Haven’t read it.” Seaborne held up the book for his friend to add his input.

“Read it,” he confirmed. Seaborne tossed it aside before looking around with a sigh.

“I don’t think we’re going to find a single book that you or I haven’t read that has text in it.” Roach looked up from the next book he’d grabbed up to pay better attention. “I just wish I understood what was going on. What does it mean?”

“I don’t know,” Roach admitted. “Maybe someone is trying to tell us something?”

“That you read too much science fiction?” Seaborne joked. It was a knee-jerk reaction to kid his partner, but his humorless tone fell flat. He just wasn’t in the mood. He didn’t know what was going on, but from what he could tell, someone knew all the books he and Roach had ever read. Surely that was impossible. Yet there didn’t seem to be any other explanation. He simply didn’t like the implications.

“They’re reading our minds,” Roach concluded. Not exactly what Seaborne had been considering, but he was far too tired to argue.

“Who?” he merely asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.

“The aliens,” Roach replied, as if it was fully obvious. “They must have probed our brains.”

“When?” Okay, but Seaborne wanted to argue a little. He was frustrated, annoyed. Plus, no matter how much he would have hated to admit it, he was scared. Roach was, too.

“I dunno,” he answered. “Maybe they’re scanning our brains right now.” He looked up at the ceiling as if he could catch the supposed aliens in the act. Of course, there was nothing there. Seaborne felt his bones pop in several places as he stood up and stretched. Checking his watch, he groaned at the time. The sun was probably long gone by now and he didn’t relish the idea of walking back to the hotel in the dark.

“Well, as far as alien mind-probes go, this one seems fairly harmless.” Roach didn’t answer but looked back down at the books still littering the floor, his face scrunched in concentration. “Just wish I understood their motivations.” His partner stared at the books for a few more seconds as if everything would suddenly be revealed to him. Of course the books had nothing to say on the matter.

“Man, I’m tired,” he yawned, getting to his own feet. “I’ll have to come back tomorrow to investigate more.” Seaborne didn’t have the heart to tell him that he was hoping that they could leave right away in the morning. “Let’s get back to the hotel; I’m beat.” Stepping around the books he patted Seaborne on the shoulder, his hand lingering a bit as he continued on towards the exit. Seaborne tried to ignore it as he had so many times in the past. This time, however, it gave him pause. “You coming?” Roach wondered, when his partner didn't follow right away. 

“Uh, yeah,” Seaborne mumbled, trotting after him to catch up. “I’m right behind you.

~ ~ ~

The street lamp’s dim light did little to pierce through the fog that continued to permeate the city streets of Ravenvale. Neither the moon nor any stars could either, leaving the empty streets dark and gloomy. The unquieting silence had not diminished during Seaborne’s visit to the library; the only differences were the added footsteps of his friend beside him and the ceaseless thumping of his heart in his chest. Did Roach always walk this close? Normally if Seaborne found his friend too close he’d simply shift away. He just couldn’t take the risk. This time, though… Maybe he was more tired than he thought, or maybe it was the fear creeping into his bones pushing him to seek comfort in his lifelong friend.

The air was windless and yet Seaborne felt a chill on the back of his neck. He shivered and held his jacket closed tightly. The cool weather that had been so pleasant before now nipped at his exposed skin. Roach wasn’t immune to the crispness of the air, stuffing his hands into his pant’s pockets. The sun, though hidden, must have had more of an effect on the temperature than either of them could had assumed. Roach was glad for his friend’s company, he always was. He hadn’t expected the man to show up at the library. Maybe he was beginning to believe, too. Not wanting to get his hopes up, Roach tried not to let it go to his head. In the end, Seaborne would always find a rational explanation for everything. Yet, this time, how could he? What rational explanation could there be?

“I wanted to stop by the mechanic shop,” Seaborne noted, breaking the silence. “I suppose it’s too late, now.”

“I wish the diner was still open,” Roach lamented, his stomach rumbling in response. If only he hadn’t skipped supper.

“Too bad you didn’t get that elk jerky,” Seaborne quipped with a smirk. Roach playfully smacked the man’s side with an elbow in response. It was good to see him make a joke, and mean it, even if it wasn’t very funny. Seaborne’s smiles always made Roach feel better. It made him feel lots of things. Most he couldn’t admit. Running his fingers through his hair absent-mindedly, Roach turned his mind to more acceptable conversation.

“Maybe I’ll grab some before we leave tomorrow,” he suggested, letting his arms sway at his sides. He felt a little warmer now, and not because of the weather.

“Your brain really only has the two settings, huh?” Seaborne joked. “Thinkin’ about aliens and thinkin’ about food.” Roach chuckled along with his friend, though inside he was disagreeing with that statement. 

‘ _Those aren’t all I think about,_ ’ he corrected silently. They walked on for a few minutes more without another word, each just thinking to themselves. Neither wanting to admit exactly what they were thinking of. As they neared the hotel, Roach noticed that his fingers were awfully close to Seaborne’s hand. He needed only to stretch them to make contact….

“Almost there,” he noted, after clearing his throat and jamming both of his hands back into his pockets. Now wasn’t the time for such thoughts. Seaborne didn’t seem to notice his discomfort, looking up to see the glowing hotel sign looming into view. Roach never thought he’d actually be happy to see it. Despite his strong desire to solve the mystery of this town, a nice warm bed sounded perfect just now. Tomorrow he’d started again, with a fresh head and rested mind. A full night’s sleep would do his partner a world of good as well; maybe tomorrow he’d be more apt to stay and investigate together. Roach smiled at that.

The lobby to the hotel was empty, though that wasn’t much of a surprise. It was still eerie, though, in its complete emptiness. The word deserted came to mind. Seaborne wasn’t used to not seeing some sort of staff, even at this late hour, stationed behind the lobby desk as one might see in a normal hotel. Of course, he had never stayed in a place quite like this. Whenever he and Roach went out of town on cases, they’d get booked in the finest hotels- all on the FBI’s dime. He’d never consider himself spoiled, he just enjoyed being comfortable. Of course Roach would say ‘picky’, but-

“Hey, do you want one of my pillows?” Roach suddenly asked. “I noticed the rooms only have two and I know how you like to have an extra one.” 

“Oh! Uh, thanks,” Seaborne answered. His friend could be quite thoughtful sometimes. More often than many would notice or even guess. Part of his charm, Seaborne supposed. Upstairs they found their separate rooms and after courteously exchanged nods, they said goodnight and when inside. Roach found it exactly as he had left it, dull and uninteresting for the most part. He flipped on the lights without a second thought and plopped himself onto the bed with an audible groan. While his stylish shoes may have matched his suit perfectly, they weren’t exactly made to be worn for so long as they had been. Once he had removed them, he happily flung them across the floor, moving on to remove most of his clothing so they could take the same (or, at least, a similar) trajectory. 

It was a ritual he had repeated hundreds of times over the years, every time he had to be on his feet all day. He learned long ago that the FBI kept awful hours. At least the pay was better than being a private detective. There was very little he missed about that job. The idea had been sound, although the execution had often left quite a bit to be desired, and the pay was terrible. The only reprieve had been the company. 

Just as the thought of Seaborne crossed his mind, Roach heard a knock on his door. Thinking it might be a member of the hotel staff, he grabbed up the comforter and wrapped it around his half-naked body before answering the door. It was his partner, the spare pillow Roach had given him wrapped in his arms.

“Uh, hey, Roach,” Seaborne began, as if he was surprised to see his friend at all. Years of practice kept his eyes far away from the chest that was now bare before him. Seaborne didn’t seem ready for bed at all, still fully dressed, much to Roach’s disappointment. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No,” Roach assured him, readjusting his improvised wrap. “Still awake. What’s up?” Seaborne hesitated, feeling silly now over his reasons for coming over. Not that he could take it back now. The time for come clean was now; now or never.

“I um… I was wondering if…” 'Now', sure, but his brain wasn’t going to make it easy. Finally he closed his eyes and forced out the rest. “If I could stay here tonight.” Yup. It sounded just as weird and stupid as he thought it might, at least to his ears. Roach, meanwhile, was having a hard time hiding his elation. 

“Sure, yeah.” He said, trying to sound nonchalant. “Is there something wrong with your room?” He had to make sure there wasn’t something actually wrong that they should be worried about, of course.

“N-no,” Seaborne had to admit. “Not that I can tell it’s just…” He gestured behind him, towards his room, with his thumb. “That painting is back. Again.”

“Painting?” Roach asked, a bit confused.

“The demon-sitting-on-a-woman painting,” seaborne clarified. “I keep putting it in the closet but he keeps coming back. It’s kinda freaking me out. I don’t know,” he added, feeling even more sheepish than before. “Maybe I’m just tired but I don’t really want to be alone in that room right now. Do you mind?” Far from minding, Roach let him smile just slightly as he stepped out of the way for his friend to enter.

“Not at all,” he promised, motioning towards the bed. “Take whichever side you want. I’m gonna to brush my teeth.” Seaborne, who’d already done just that, nodded gratefully before stepping inside. The two of them crossed dangerously close to one another on their way to their individual destinations and, for Seaborne, it was a great deal more uncomfortable than it should have been. It’s not like they had never stood close together. They’d even gone swimming together so it wasn’t Roach’s state of dress that made things worse. It was the knowledge that they were to be sharing a bed. Silly though it may have seemed to an outside view, that it was terrified Seaborne most of all. Terrified, for it was during sleep that he wasn’t in full control and he didn’t very well trust himself. 

Unlike his partner and friend, Seaborne removed his clothing with far less enthusiasm. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to seem with anything but his briefs on, and he dearly needed a full night’s sleep, but the fewer layers he had between him and Roach… the more dangerous this whole endeavor became. At last he lay beneath the sheets, tucking himself in tight, and tried to calm his mind. He reminded himself that his fears were unfounded, that this was no big deal. He could get through one night sharing Roach’s bed. Surely his body would behave itself for one night, right?

He was still busy mulling the whole situation over when Roach returned from the bathroom, the comforter no longer wrapped around his middle but dragging behind him. With one fluid motion he whipped it up and back onto the bed. It almost landed perfectly into position.

“Nice,” he whispered to himself as he went about tugging it into place. Seaborne couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Eventually Roach had the thick blanket just the way he wanted it and, without further ado, slipping into the bed opposite his partner. “Good night,” he offered, lying on his side facing away.

“‘Night,” Seaborne replied, locking himself into a firm back position. He closed his eyes, slightly hopeful that he could wake up, get dressed, and finally- finally- get out of this weird, foggy, godforsaken, town.


	9. Chapter 9

As Roach lay there, on his side, his body was lying still but his mind was running around like a crazed gazelle. The mystery that was Ravenvale seemed to be taunting him and he was desperate to figure it out. He had to solve the riddle or he figured he’d just go completely insane. Ideas kept rushing in and out of his thoughts, pieces of the puzzle that just didn’t fit together. Of course aliens made the most sense, what else could it be? But the whole fairy story was sticking a wrench in the whole idea, bringing more questions than answers into his unbalanced equation. Where did the fairies fit in? Had Roach seen an alien, or some strange fey creature? Was Seaborne still awake? 

That last question turned Roach’s brain on a dime. Seaborne was sleeping, right next to him, in the same bed, presumably wearing very little. Roach didn’t mean to think about his best friend’s bedroom attire, but then again they’d never slept in the same bed before. Seaborne had often been distracting, but usually it was at a greater distance… and with more clothing on. 

‘ _Focus,_ ’ Roach told himself, trying to coax his mind back into the seemingly unsolvable mystery that had been plaguing him all day. The advice was proving harder to follow than in the past; mostly because the man he’d love for years was finally in his bed and he couldn’t touch him. Seaborne would probably frown on them even facing each other, let alone making eye contact. God forbid. Roach wanted nothing more than to roll over and watch his partner sleeping, except maybe to roll over and find that the man behind him was feeling exactly the same way.

Hope surged in his heart and he mentally slapped it down hard. He’d had such hopes before but they had always been fiercely dashed by reality. Taking in a deep, cleansing breath, Roach tried to will himself to think about something else, to concentrate on the task at hand and the obvious reason for all that was strange and confusing about Ravenvale.

‘ _Think about aliens,_ ’ he ordered himself. ‘ _Don’t think about Seaborne; think about aliens._ ’ It was much easier said than done, but eventually he was able to divert his mind towards less impure thoughts. At least, for the previous few minutes he lasted before finally falling asleep. 

As far as he could tell, Roach hadn’t been asleep for very long before he felt the bed around him begin to shake. It wasn’t an overly violent shaking, just a very bumpy vibration. It felt more like he was in the bed of a truck, not the bed of a hotel. Well, that wasn’t quite right either. Shifting his weight, still far too sleepy to understand why he had been woken from his slumber, it took a few moments for his inner ear to realize that he wasn’t lying horizontally any more. His arms shifted, feeling the world around him, trying to bring as much sense to his brain without actually opening his eyes. The comforter was gone, the sheets, the mattress. Instead just the smooth leather of a car seat.

His eyes flew open. It was still dark out, but he was no longer in the semi-comfortable bed of a hotel but in a car… _his_ car. The el camino he’d owned for years and worked as a private detective with Seaborne in. It was moving- the vibrations were the car shaking lightly as it drove over a bumpy road. Roach rubbed his face, convinced that he was still asleep, and bumped his glasses in the process. He didn’t remember putting them back on. Of course, he didn’t remember getting up and- wait… this car wasn’t outside. This car wasn’t even in the same state. They’d left it behind when they flew across the country. Nothing about this moment made sense. It couldn’t be true, but even though he had to be a dream, Roach couldn’t remember ever having a dream that felt so real.

“It’s about time you woke up,” came an all too familiar voice. Turning his head to the driver’s side of the car, Roach saw his best friend at the wheel, frantically trying to keep the vehicle going in a straight line, and dressed only in camo-printed briefs. “I need you to take over driving.”

“W-wha… why, where??” There were so many questions trying to get out of Roach’s mouth at the same time, he didn’t know where to begin. The question of Seaborne’s attire was at the forefront of his mind, but that question fell to the wayside when Roach looked down at his own outfit. Boxers… and nothing else. Was he still dreaming? What was going on?

“It’s your turn to drive,” Seaborne insisted, seemingly unaware that anything was even remotely odd. 

“Where are we going?” Roach asked, finally able to pick one of the thousands of questions he wanted to ask. Seaborne lifted his butt from the seat, still somehow managing to drive the car, offering an opening for his friend.

“It’s up to you,” he answered, glancing over momentarily. “You need to take the wheel.” Just as confused as ever, Roach didn’t know what else to do but oblige Seaborne’s request. Carefully maneuvering over the center seat divide, he slid under his partner’s body and moved his feet towards the petals. Just as he was about to take the offered wheel, the whole car hit a huge bump and the two of them shot upwards in a lurch. A second later, They landed back down on the seat, Seaborne on top of Roach’s lap, and all of their arms flailed to find purchase on the car.

Roach managed to grab the wheel with one hand and point the vehicle straight before they wrecked, while the other held Seaborne steady. With few answers to the questions spinning in his head, Roach tried to step on the brake so that the two of them could have a civil conversation without risking a crash, but nothing he seemed to do to the pedals changed their velocity. He couldn’t slow down or speed up. 

“What’s going on, man?” he asked, trying to see the road. Much of his vision was impeded by his companion, and the darkness outside seemed unphased by the car’s headlights. Seaborne didn’t appear worried in the slightest, though he was holding on to Roach’s clutching arm with some force.

“Take the wheel,” Seaborne repeated, his voice distant and distracted. Trying to do just that Roach wasn’t sure what his partner was doing as the man looked down from the road. Seaborne wriggled and fidgeted for a few seconds while Roach tried desperately to figure out how to stop this impossible ride. After a moment he realized his friend was removing the last of his clothing, leaving him naked in Roach’s lap.

“Uh... What…. Uh…” Roach’s voice caught in his throat and the arm around Seaborne’s waist started to shake from nerves. His fingers gripped the naked flesh of the man’s side, scared that they might venture lower than was appropriate. “What are…?” His question faded away, unable to find the strength to ask what was happening. 

“The wheel,” Seaborne was saying, though Roach was having trouble hearing anything over the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears. “Take it.” Roach’s arm that wrapped around his friend snapped to the wheel, figuring it was the only safe thing to do in this situation. Eyes forward, hands in plain view, Roach was terrified of making the wrong move. Seaborne wasn’t helping, leaning his head back so he could whisper in his friend’s ear in a sultry voice. “Don’t let go.”

The car, still shaking, seemed to have a mind of its own as it raced along the dark road, but Roach was barely aware as Seaborne started to shift again. This time his hands worked quickly to grab not his own underwear, but those of his friend, struggling to pull them off as he had his briefs. Maybe it was the sense that this was a dream, or maybe he wanted this more than he’d ever admit, but in a moment of weakness Roach raised his hips just enough to help, letting his lifelong friend remove the last shred of cloth that had separated their naked bodies. 

Begging his body to ignore the fact that the naked body of his best friend, that he had desired for most of his life, was currently sitting directly on top of his crotch, Roach tried to focus on driving. Of course Seaborne was making that impossible. Reaching one arm over his shoulder, Seaborne placed a hand at the back of Roach’s head. His other hand he placed over Roach’s right hand which was starting to hurt from how tightly he was holding the steering wheel. Then, without a bit of warning, Seaborne began to roll his pelvis leaving Roach to let out a lusty moan.

Roach’s body reacted instantly, blood rushing to his groin before he could stop it. It pressed up against Seaborne and the man didn’t slow down for a moment. He wanted this. Roach wanted this. All thoughts of hiding from the truth dissipated and Roach’s fear along with it. Pulling his left hand from the wheel he placed it on Seaborne’s hip, guiding him as he continued to rub their bodies together.

“We’re gonna crash,” Roach whispered between breaths. Seaborne learned forward, looking out the windshield at the dark world beyond. 

“We’re safe in here,” he assured Roach. “We’re parked.” Satisfied with his description of the situation, Seaborne leaned back into his partner’s lap, using a free hand to reach beneath his own body to find that of his friend. 

“We’re still moving,” Roach argued, his voice quiet as his need to understand everything was quickly fading into the background. The seat on which they were both sitting was still vibrating. Seaborne was undaunted, grasping onto his prize and massaging with vigor, spreading a warm viscous substance with his fingers. He put his mouth by Roach’s ear once more.

“What _do_ you feel?” he breathed. The whisper sent shivers up and down Roach’s spine, tingling his brain and excited his body even more than it already was. What he felt was worked up, more turned on than he’d ever been. What he felt was oblivious to the whys and hows of their circumstances. What he felt was the unbridled desire to finish was Seaborne was starting; to make love to the man that had, for so long, owned his heart. 

“I want you.” With those words, Roach committed himself to this experience. Whether or dream or reality, it no longer mattered. With one hand still holding Seaborne’s hip, Roach reached around with his other to find his partner just as excited as he, perhaps more so. He had finished rubbing lubricant onto Roach and himself, and was now just waiting for his lover’s next move. Where he had gotten the lube, Roach had no idea, but it didn’t matter; he was grateful that it was there. Without a word he coaxed Seaborne into raising up, lifting him into position. If the car needed their hands on their wheel before, it didn’t seem to now, the outside world beyond all explanation. For them there was only Seaborne and Roach, and their passion for each other.

Lowering him slowly, Roach let his partner set the pace as he did his best not to rush this. Seaborne let out a shuddering sigh as he took inch after inch of Roach’s erection, easily and without pause. Roach filled him completely and he was finally sitting square on the man’s lap, Seaborne let out a deep sigh. Roach’s hands slithered up his partner’s abdomen and chest, holding him fast against his body. There was a brief pause as they settled into place and then, with a shallow growl, Roach thrust forward and even deeper inside. Once… twice... faster and faster….

Seaborne leaned forward to give them a better angle, his partner's hands falling to his sides. The steering wheel, now locked into position, didn’t move as he grasped it in his fists. He used it to gain more leverage, pushing back against each thrust sending echoes of body slapping against body all throughout the car. The sound mixed with panting and moaning until it all became one glorious, erotic symphony of sex. It was ecstasy, it was divine. Both of them held on for dear life, thinking of anything but pushing forward towards the inevitable climax, not caring about what happened after. 

It was about that time when Seaborne realized his friend was humping him in his sleep. The tall man had rolled over from his distant sleeping position to lie right up against his companion and was not only bumping up against him in slow, deliberate motions, but had his arm wrapped around him and was quietly mumbling something.

“Seaborne,” Roach whispered, his eyes closed his brow furrowed. At first Seaborne, the _real_ Seaborne, didn’t know what to do, frozen with fear and shock. Part of him wanted to ignore that this was happening at all, while part of him wanted very dearly to enjoy it. He knew his desires were wrong though, that things couldn’t be as they seemed. It was too good to be true. A few moments passed before he realized that he had to put a stop to whatever was really happening. 

“Roach.” He started quietly, breaking from his fixed position to grab hold of his friend’s arm. “Roach!” he repeated, louder this time as he shook the man’s body. It took a few seconds and more than a few more shakes to wake Roach from what must have been the deepest slumber of his life. Waking with a start, Roach didn’t say a word as his and Seaborne’s eyes met, sweat beading on his forward. The dream and the reality merged in that moment and he didn’t know if a kiss was allowed, if his love was desired. Their faces were so close it would have been so easy to move that last inch and press their lips together. Was this reality? Was this the dream?

“Seaborne?” he asked, tentative and wary. He wanted the dream to be real, but the real was creeping back into his mind. Seaborne nodded in confirmation.

“You're dreaming,” he affirmed, scared that Roach was still in the dream. Scared that he wanted Roach to continue. “It was just a dream.” Hoping the disappointment didn’t register on his face, Roach nodded his understanding and pulled away. It had felt so real; it had felt so wonderful. Still he remembered the truth, that Seaborne would never return his feelings, that they were destined to be friends and nothing more. That was just the way of things.

“You were with Gina?” Seaborne guessed, thinking the only possibility was that his friend had been dreaming about his ex-girlfriend.

“Y-yeah,” Roach answered, rolling back on his side, facing away so Seaborne wouldn’t see the tears. “Sorry about that.” Now Seaborne nodded to himself, reinforcing the truth that he had known for years. They were friends and that was that. Clearing his throat, he threw back the covers and grabbed up his pillows.

“I think I’ll sleep on the floor,” he announced, sliding off to do just that. Roach merely grunted in reply. That was for the best, they both thought. Sleeping in the same bed had been just as dangerous as Seaborne had long suspected. Pushing their friendship was just too perilous.

As the two of them closed their eyes, trying to think of nothing and drift off into a dreamless sleep, neither of them saw the tiny face in the window shaking its head. With a sigh, the small, winged creature fluttered off. More drastic measures would had to be taken with these denial-ridden humans, that much was obvious.


	10. Chapter 10

The next morning, long after the sun had risen over the horizon, Roach finally opened his eyes and was relieved to find out that his location hadn’t changed. Somewhat relieved. He lay there for a few minutes just bringing himself to full consciousness, remembering the events of the day before, of last night and the repercussions he feared would come from his actions. He didn’t want to face the day, but lying here did nothing to solve his problems either. Eventually, he pulled himself from the mattress and sat up. At first he tried not to make a sound, not wanting to wake his friend from his own sleep, but a quick glance around the small room proved that he was alone.

Seaborne was always the earlier riser, but now he had even more reasons than usual to be up and out of that room before his partner. While his own room still spooked him quite a bit, he didn’t hesitate to get back there after he woke up, eager to be dressed and downstairs before he and Roach could exchange any awkward morning greetings. He knew that he’d feel far more ready to converse once they were both dressed. After showering quickly, getting dressed and ready for the day, he checked his phone for a charge. At the sight of the dead phone he almost threw it across the room. The phone wasn’t nearly old enough to be broken from age, but the wall socket didn’t seem damaged either. 

“I hate this place,” Seaborne mumbled, stuffing the phone and charger into his pockets. If he couldn’t charge it, there was no reason to leave it in the room. He hoped he’d never have to be in this space again, that the rental car would be fixed today and that he and Roach could leave some time very soon. Long before his partner left his room across the hall, Seaborne headed downstairs to check on the situation. His heart, which was already on shaky ground from last night, fell straight into his stomach as he looked out of the hotel’s front windows. The fog, which had permeated the town all of yesterday, had not dissipated one bit. It was still as prevalent as ever.

“It’s awfully thick out there today,” came an unexpected voice. It was Miss Marble. She was polishing keys before putting them on their numbered hooks on the wall behind the counter. “Be careful out there.”

“Still foggy, huh?” Seaborne replied with a sigh. He was trying to remember if there were fog lights on the rental car and not really paying attention to what Miss Marble was saying. “Guess the festival’s gonna be canceled, huh?”

“Oh that’s not ‘til tomorrow, hun,” Miss Marble noted, not sounding worried in the slightest. “I hope you and your friend will stay; it’s going to be a lovely festival.” The words rolled over Seaborne like water off of a duck as the agent’s mind continued to wander. He finally smiled politely at the woman before taking a deep breath and heading outside. His partner wouldn’t be awake for quite some time yet and he really needed breakfast and a cup of coffee.

Once outside the familiar chill of the mist clung to his skin and clothing, as if it were trying to hold him back from even crossing the street. Determined and rather impatient, Seaborne was undaunted as he headed towards the restaurant. The sun had to be somewhere in the distance but, much like the day before, the fog barely let it through. The lack of clear sky did little to raise his spirits, nor did they distract him from his troubling inner thoughts. Last night seemed so far away and yet Seaborne needed only to close his eyes to picture his best friend’s face right in front of him, eyes wide, lips so tempting. What Roach had been dreaming of was painfully obvious but while he had confirmed the dream was about Gina, Seaborne wasn’t so certain. He couldn’t be positive about what he’d heard the man whisper in his sleep, nor could he know exactly had been going on in that dream, but the more he thought about it the more he recalled his own name on Roach’s lips.

‘ _Of course he was dreaming about Gina,_ ’ Seaborne mused, chastising his own hopes. Any other theory made no sense, in his mind. There was no way Roach had actually been dreaming about Seaborne, or else he would have said something when he woke. He would have made a joke, or a quip. It’s not as if he was actually dreaming about he and Seaborne… right? Forcing a chuckle, Seaborne shook his head and turned his mind away from the events of last night. He wanted to forget them, he wanted Roach to forget them. He wanted so dearly for the whole night to be forgotten so that he and Roach could get back to their normal lives as if nothing had changed.

Yet he couldn’t get the expression that had been on Roach’s face upon waking out of his mind. It had been dark but the details were there; sweat beaded on his forehead, his eyes dilated and hungry. That night could have gone very differently had Seaborne been the target of Roach's desires, but no, that would never happen. Seaborne wasn’t his type. After all these years there had been no indication, why would things change now? As Seaborne approached the restaurant, he let his fantasies fall to the wayside as he had done so many times in the past. He could save those thoughts for another time.

It wasn’t until Seaborne had downed two cups of coffee and a stack of pancakes that his partner finally arrived for his own breakfast. Roach cleared his throat before sitting down across from him and nodding to the waitress that he was ready to order.

“We have a problem.” The words sent a tingle up Seaborne’s spine. Roach wanted to talk about it? Nervous, Seaborne took a long, slow, sip of his coffee, trying to stall from this moment as much as possible. Roach looked nervous as well, looking about the diner with very suspicious eyes. At last Seaborne could stall no longer, setting down his coffee and taking a deep breath.

“Look,” he began, looking down at his empty coffee cup, unable to make eye contact. “Whatever you said last night in your sleep, I didn’t-”

“My gun is missing.” Seaborne stopped short mid-sentence, unsure if he’d heard his partner correctly. It couldn’t be true; if it was… the implications were frightening.

“Are you shouldn’t you haven’t just…?”

“Misplaced it?” Roach guessed, sending Seaborne a look. “I’m not that careless. I put it in my nightstand yesterday. This morning it was just… gone.” Seaborne’s fears took an abrupt turn from personal to something far more serious.

“Could a maid have taken it last night-” His voice choked ever so slightly as he was reminded of the previous night’s events. He pushed through, making a smooth recovery. There were more important matters at hand. “-while we were… asleep?” If Roach was having any emotional reaction to the mention of the night before, as Seaborne was, he didn’t show it.

“I dunno, maybe.” He seriously doubted it, though. Frustrated and feeling rather guilty, Roach leaned back and ruffled his hair. “You still have yours, right?”

“Yeah, right here,” Seaborne confirmed, opening his jacket slightly to show off the holster and gun inside. “What’s done is done,” he offered, not really in the mood to chastise his companion this morning. “I’ll look into it. Have something to eat,” he added, as the waitress came over. “I’ll meet you at the gas station. I want to check in with the twins anyway.”

“I thought you said they weren’t twins,” Roach replied, managing a weak smile.

“Whatever,” his partner mumbled with his own tiny smile.

~ ~ ~

  
Heading back into the hotel lobby Seaborne had to ring the bell on the counter a few times before Miss Marble would come out of the office. She smiled pleasantly, looking a bit blank, and asked if Seaborne needed anything.

“Has any of the staff been in our rooms since we checked in yesterday?” he asked, trying to be professional and not accusatory. Miss Marble tilted her head as if she didn’t understand the question.

“Were your rooms unsatisfactory?” she wondered, concerned.

“No, nothing like that,” Seaborne lied, leaving his opinions about his room’s decor to himself. “But my partner misplaced… something. Was wondering if, maybe, when the maid’s cleaned the rooms they… found it?” Tactful, diplomatic; he usually saved yelling for the truly inept. 

“Did you need your room cleaned?” Miss Marble guessed, making Seaborne wonder if she _had_ all over her marbles. Smiling politely, he switched tactics. 

“Do you have a lost and found, perhaps?” he suggested. Miss Marble looked up at him. Her eyes, made to look bigger behind her thick-rimmed glasses, looked even bigger than usual.

“Anything lost will be found again.” With that, Miss Marble spun around and headed back into her office. Seaborne was a bit confused about that cryptic and slightly ominous response. Once he had recomposed himself he followed, pushing open the office door, fully intending to continue the conversation. The room beyond contained a desk, a lamp, two filing cabinets and door on the far wall. What it did not contain, was any people.

‘ _Quick little lady,_ ’ Seaborne noted. Double checking that Miss Marple wasn’t just beyond the next door, he decided that in her absence he could do a quick search of the office. If Roach’s gun was in this room, Seaborne would find it.

~ ~ ~

Back at the diner Roach was helping himself to a full stack of pancakes. Normally he would be freaking out about losing his company-issued sidearm, but his mind was somewhere else entirely. He remembered waking up last night with his arm wrapped around Seaborne, he didn’t know that he’d spoken in his sleep, too. What did he say? What could Seaborne have heard? The possibilities were numerous and all bad considering what Roach had been dreaming about. He had to find out what his partner had heard, and soon. The mystery was killing him more than where his gun went and what was going on in this town.

“More coffee, hun?” It was Cindy, the waitress from yesterday. Roach barely nodded before she starting pouring him a second cup. Just as she was about to head off back to the kitchen, Roach spoke up.

“Hey, Cindy,” he began. “About your uncle Deneir… He showed me this book yesterday and I was wondering…” His sentence trailed off when he saw the look appearing on Cindy’s face. It was calm, almost blank as if she had no idea what Roach was talking about. “At the library?”

“The library?” she repeated.

“Yeah, up the street.” Roach pointing in the direction of the building in question for emphasis. 

“That’s been closed for years,” Cindy told him. “My uncle lives in California. Moved there after he retired.”

“I talked to him yesterday, I-’ Roach paused, thinking about this new information for a second. “Your uncle, Deneir?” Cindy nodded. “Short man, wild grey hair, kinda looks a bit.. Unhinged?” At the brief description, Cindy let out a chuckle.

“Yeah, that’s my uncle alright,” she confirmed with an unchanging smile. “He moved to California years ago.”

“But I saw him yesterday,” Roach argued. “At the library.” Cindy waved the statement away.

“That can’t be,” she promised. “The library’s been closed since my uncle left.” Roach was incredulous. He knew what he saw, where he was and who he had talked to. What he didn’t know was why this woman was lying to him.

“I talked to him yesterday,” he insisted. “He was going on about seeing fairies in town. He showed me a book.” As he spoke, Cindy’s face became like a doll, frozen in a perfect, beautiful smile, her eyes sparkling yet empty. It only lasted a second or two but that expression chilled Roach to his bones. The moment passed in a fleeting instant and Cindy just laughed again.

“My uncle is in California.” What that, the matter apparently settled, Cindy moved away, leaving Roach with more questions yet again. 

~ ~ ~

Meanwhile, inside the gas station, Darrell (or maybe Doug) was standing behind the counter reading a magazine. The man didn’t look up as Seaborne entered, nor showed any sign that he noticed a customer at all. Hoping he wasn’t going to regret going here before getting a cup of coffee first, Seaborne cleared his throat to get the man’s attention only getting a raised eyebrow for his efforts.

“Did you order the part?” he asked, finally getting a decent response. Doug (or possibly Darrell) looked up from his magazine with a look that could curdle milk.

“What part?” he asked, in a strangely calm voice. Definitely Darrell. Seaborne was quite sick of this man and his bad attitude. Crossing the room with a purposeful stride, he snatched the magazine right out of the mechanic’s hands.

“The part for the car,” he snapped. Much to his surprise Darrell had little to no reaction to Seaborne’s outburst. He merely looked up at the man speaking to him, his expression unchanged.

“It will be here tomorrow.” Not the answer Seaborne wanted to hear. Fuming, but desperately wanting to appear professional, he took a deep cleansing breath and tried again.

“Did you order it?” he asked calmly. 

“Can’t make it git here any faster.” Darrell’s responses were cold, almost emotionless, and it was driving Seaborne crazy. 

“I just want to know if you’ve ordered it, okay?” Seaborne really didn’t want to beg. His expression unchanged, Darrell grabbed up the magazine and opened to wear he left off.

“Tomorrow,” was all he offered before going back to reading. Rubbing his head, Seaborne took another deep breath, this one a bit sharper and far less cleansing.

“Listen, if you could just- for ONE second- pull your head out of your-” 

“Going well, I take it?” interrupted Roach’s voice from the doorway. Seaborne turned to see his partner strolling in. Darrell took no notice.

“Not exactly,” Seaborne admitted, motioning for his friend to follow him out to the garage. Once out of earshot he continued. “Miss Marble was no help and I didn’t find anything in her office.”

“Do you think-?” Roach started to ask, but Seaborne waved a hand to cut him off.

“I mean, I found nothing. No papers, no documents, not even a pencil. There was a desk and some cabinets, all empty.” Roach didn’t know what to say about that. He stared at Seaborne, slack-jawed for a few seconds before speaking.

“What the hell is going on here?” he demanded, as if Seaborne had any answers. “I talked to Cindy at the diner, after you left. She said her uncle hasn’t even lived in this town for years, that the library was closed.”

“You believe her?”

“Of course not,” Roach threw back, slightly irritated. “You were in the library with me. Did it look closed?”

“You don’t have to bite my head off,” Seaborne snapped back. “Look, let’s go check the library together, see if it’s open. Okay?” Not entirely placated, Roach nodded. He wasn’t really mad at Seaborne anyway, just himself.


	11. Chapter 11

“You sure you didn’t leave it in the library?” Seaborne was asking as he and Roach walked down the road towards the building in question. It had been a few minutes since they last talked, giving them both some time to cool off. While neither was angry any longer, they both could feel a thick tension between them, both unbreaking and fragile. Had this been any other day Roach would have argued, would have insisted that he hadn’t misplaced the gun, but today he was in no mood for their usual witty banter.

“Yes,” he stated, looking up from his feet. “I remember putting in my nightstand last night before-” His eyes looked up and away, trying to look anywhere but at Seaborne just then. “Before I went to sleep,” he managed to finish. “Can we talk about something else?” Seaborne nodded, welcoming a change in subject.

“Miss Marble’s office,” he started, thinking back to a complication-free moment. “Any theories on why it was empty?” Good, normal, part of the mystery that is Ravenvale. Finally something Roach could handle.

“It seems a lot of work to hide her papers from us,” he surmised. “But that is a possibility. Otherwise we have to assume that her office is normally bare.” 

“She could have been preparing to clear out her office so she can have it repainted,” Seaborne suggested. Heaven knows it was certainly due for a fresh coat of paint along with the rest of the building. 

“Perhaps when she found out that you and I were from the FBI, she knew that she had to get rid of any evidence before we could find it,” Roach guessed. The idea of a conspiracy theory coming together was rather comforting, even if it meant someone was making it more difficult for him to solve this case.

“Evidence?” Seaborne repeated, confused. “What do you think she was hiding evidence of?”

“I don’t know,” Roach admitted, putting on his ‘detective face’. “And now we may never know. She’s a quick one, that Miss Marble.” Seaborne hid a smile. “After we check on the library, we should go back and question her.”

“She’s clearly the ring leader,” Seaborne joked. At least, he was pretty sure that he was joking. At this point, it wasn’t the most ridiculous theory spinning around their heads.

After only a few minutes of walking and continuing their conversation, things seemed to be getting back to normal. Whatever awkwardness that had been left behind from last night seemed to wash away in relaxing banter that was so routine, even in this strange town. Roach rambled about aliens and conspiracies while Seaborne countered with more realistic theories. It was familiar, it was comfortable. More than that, it was what they both had dearly hoped for: it was as if the night before had never happened. Forgiven, forgotten, and pushed aside for later mulling over, the multitude of thoughts that had been distracting them both were pushed to the wayside for now.

Discussions of fairies and aliens fell silent as the massive shape of the library loomed into view. Nothing seemed amiss, at first, the mist continuing to make seeing anything from a distance quite difficult. It wasn’t until they got much closer that they noticed a rather huge detail that had changed since the last time they had stopped by. The massive doors that led to the main lobby of the building were nailed shut with no less than five wooden planks. As they got even closer they saw similar boards on all of the tall windows that lined the front. If there was ever a sign that a building was closed, that was it.

“They boarded it up!” Roach exclaimed furiously, dashing to get a closer look. Seaborne was close behind, more confused than angry. “We must have been close to something.” 

“To what, though?” Seaborne wondered, trying to look between the boards on one of the windows. “And who could have done this over night?” His partner shook his head, stepping back and sizing up the situation.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, rolling up his sleeves. “But I’m getting in there. No boards are gonna stop me.” With that he grabbed onto the nearest boards covering the doorway and began to pull. Unsure as to what his partner was going to accomplish in the end, Seaborne stood back for a few seconds just watching the man struggle. Then, realizing that Roach wasn’t going to leave this place empty handed, he stepped up to help.

“You gotta grab it at the ends,” he explained, taking hold of one nailed end. Roach shifted to hold the board right next to Seaborne’s hands and, with a bit of effort, they were able to pull the plank clean off. In just a few minutes they’d removed enough to open the front doors and Roach eagerly led the way. Uncertain about this whole endeavor and perhaps a little over cautious, Seaborne drew his gun, just in case.

The lights were all out inside and the boarded up windows provided little in the way of illumination. The meager light that did make it inside showed a down-trodden lobby that hadn’t been cleaned in decades. Layers of dirt and grime covered everything from the floor littered with old books and broken furniture to the long curtains that were once elegant but now tattered and torn. If Roach didn’t know any better, he would have sworn that this place had been abandoned ages ago.

“It’s too dark,” Seaborne commented, once again lamenting his apparently busted phone. Without a word Roach paused, reaching into a pocket in his jacket and pulling out a small, metal lighter. After a few flicks it sparked to life providing dim but efficient source of light. “Why do you have that?” Seaborne asked as they continued forward. “You don’t smoke.”

“Always good to be prepared,” was all Roach offered in response. Seaborne shrugged; he couldn’t complain about his partner’s preparedness and he was grateful for some kind of light in this spooky place.

The large center room was in much the same state as the lobby, with all the bookshelves scattered over the floor as if tossed by some massive wind. Large cobwebs permeated the nooks and crannies and dominated the corners well out of reach. The windows were bigger here but that didn’t seem to help much; it wasn’t just the boards blocking out the sunlight but the ever-present fog as well. Roach’s lighter couldn’t reach the distant walls but it brought some comfort as they pressed forward, Seaborne closer behind his colleague than usual. He scanned the room, looking for any sign that they weren’t alone, his gun at the ready.

“Maybe they got to him,” Roach was mumbling, mostly to himself. “He knew too much as they got rid of him.”

“Who?” Seaborne wondered, still keeping an eye out.

“Deneir,” his partner explained. “The librarian. He must have told me too much.” Seaborne opened his mouth to argue, to tell his friend that this Deneir guy had told him very little and most of it utter nonsense, but as he shifted to go around a rather large, fallen chandelier, his foot hit the wooden floor and kept going. With a sickening crack he felt the ground fall away beneath him, the light fixture just barely missing him as it disappeared into the darkness below. His arms flailed wildly, the gun in his hand thrown a few feet away, as he instinctively reached out for something to halt his fall. His hands found no purchase but Roach found him, grabbing hold of Seaborne’s arm and holding on tight.

“Hold on,” Roach commanded from his new position on the floor. He had slid onto his butt to catch his partner, dropping the lighter in the process. The shadows seemed to creep in without the fire to keep them at bay. Seaborne held on for dear life as his friend dragged him onto more stable floor. The two of them lay there, panting for a few seconds, before Roach began feeling around for the lighter. It was slow going; he really didn’t want to fall through the floor himself. Eventually he managed to find it and flicked it on immediately. Still being as careful as possible, he leaned over the hole that Seaborne had created. He hadn’t heard a crash. 

“What is it?” Seaborne asked, seeing the confused look on his partner’s face illuminated by the small flame.

“I didn’t hear the chandelier land.” Both of them were quiet a moment, listening as if they expected to hear the sound of the chandelier hitting something far below. There was only silence. Seaborne peeked over the side and together they peered downwards, but there was only utter darkness through the hole, like a void into nothing. Absolute nothing. Just looking at it gave both men a strange sense of dread.

“Must have missed it,” Seaborne presumed, dismissing the vast nothing below as the lighter’s inability to reach very far. “Come on, help me find my gun.” With the lighter in hand it didn’t take long for them to find the glock sitting just a few feet from the hole. Seaborne examined it to make sure it was still working and it didn’t appear to be damaged. 

“You ready to continue?” The question caught Seaborne a little off guard. Continue? Was Roach crazy? The building was obvious falling apart, or possibly booby-trapped. 

“It’s too dangerous,” he pleaded, motioning towards the hole that could have easily meant his death. “We should get outta here.” Roach shook his head.

“Not yet,” he suggested, as if this was just a normal walk through a shambled building. “There’s something here, I just know it.”

“Something?” 

“Something they don’t want us to find.” Taking the lead once more, Roach headed off towards the back of the room and Seaborne had little choice but to follow, his friend having the only light source. He wasn’t sure what Roach meant by ‘they’ or ‘something’ but he had to admit that someone (or possibly something) had turned this library into an abandoned building in just one night and he wanted to know why. It seemed a lot of effort to go to just for a prank. Neither of them wanted to turn back now, or worse: get separated.

When, at last, they reached the back of the hall without another accident, they found a closed door with a sign marked above it: 'Records'. It seemed solid enough, though it had seen better days. Silently signaling to Roach his intentions with military hand signals, Seaborne opened the door slowly. It was darker inside than the rest of the building had been, but the coast seemed clear. He made sure to scan the entire room for anyone that might be hiding before waving his friend inside. The glow from Roach’s lighter did little to light up the small room, but it was better than nothing. Like the rest of the library, the room was filled with busted furniture and covered in dust. A desk along the far wall seemed fairly intact so that was what they investigated first.

“Oh thank god,” Seaborne rejoiced with a happy sigh. In one of the top drawers of the desk was a small collection of long candles and an assortment of holders. Just what he needed. With help from Roach’s lighter, one of the bigger candles was quickly lit and their search could continue with more ease. Roach resumed search of the desk while Seaborne, after holstering his weapon, found an interesting pile of papers on the floor to rummage through.

“There must be something in here that hasn’t been trashed,” Roach commented, ruffling through the drawers. “Something we can use.” He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, exactly, he just figured he’d know it when he saw it. Meanwhile Seaborne found very little, and nothing that he saw as helpful. The papers were mainly blank, though there were a few that contained long lists of book numbers.

“There’s nothing here,” he bemoaned, not looking up. 

“Keep looking,” Roach insisted, determined that this whole venture not be for nothing. “These people went to a great deal of trouble to hide whatever is here.” Seaborne wasn’t so sure, but he wasn’t about to give up either. Pushing aside the blank papers and pages lined with the dewey decimal system, he found some manila folders that had faded long ago. Many of them were empty, but one held something more.

A photograph, impossibly glossy and pristine. It was about half the size of the ten-inch envelope, unmarked by even a single fingerprint as Seaborne remove it from its container. It took a few seconds for Seaborne’s eyes to register what they were seeing. At first he thought it was just a trick of the light, but the more he stared the more he knew that his eyes weren’t lying. He just couldn’t believe what they were telling him. It was a photo of him and Roach, sitting in his car together, somewhere he didn’t recognize. Aside from him, Roach, and the car, there was only darkness in the photo, but that wasn’t even close to the strangest thing to note.

The photographer had apparently been sitting in the passenger's side of the car during this supposed incident. Roach was in the driver’s seat, with Seaborne in his lap. Seaborne didn’t remember this ever happening, though he had fantasized about it many times. Roach would have never gone along with this, whatever 'this' was. He would never let Seaborne sit on his lap, under any circumstances. Certainly not with them both naked. Seaborne squinted as he looked closer at the photograph. It had to be fake, photo-shopped or something, maybe someone put his and Roach’s head on someone else’s bodies, but that didn’t make sense either. That was his body, his naked chest and legs, his carefully toned butt which he spent hours weekly working on. 

‘ _Not bad,_ ’ he thought to himself, half talking about the results of his exercise and half about the quality of the forgery. Because it had to be fake; this had never happened. Still, he had to wonder who would have gone through all the work to make this? And how could it have been made with such accuracy? At least he assumed it was accurate. His body looked accurate. He hadn’t spent enough time looking at Roach’s naked body to know if his part in this photo was correct. He tilted his head, wondering…. Then he back to the present. If the situation were different, he might keep this photo to look at when he was alone, but things were not so simple.

Starting to turn, to show Roach what he had found, his eyes caught something else in the photo. It was small, barely there, but like the rest of the photo it was clear and crisp. Looking in through the windshield, just peeking over the dash, was a tiny face. Above that face, watching the scene before it with great interest, was a pair of tiny, gossamer wings. 

“Hey Roach,” Seaborne began, his eyes glued to the photo as he turned to face his friend. “Hey, come look at this.” Roach didn’t answer. “Hey!” Seaborne repeated, louder. “Roach, look-” Finally looking up, his half-smile fell from his lips and his entire face turned white. Now he understood why Roach didn’t answer. Swinging around he raised his candle high, trying to push away the shadows, but it was no use. Roach wasn’t there. “Roach?” he called out, nervous, but there was no response. “Roach!” Nothing. Seaborne was alone.


	12. Chapter 12

“Roach!” Seaborne shouted, his voice cracking a bit. He wasn’t normally one to succumb to fear; he wasn’t scared of the dark or of being alone, but this place wasn’t normal. Far from normal, it was impossible. There was no way anyone could transform a working library into a run-down, forsaken dump in just one night. Not without a great deal of help and machinery. The scale of such a project in such little time blew Seaborne’s mind. Then there was the void, the impossible cavern that lay beneath this massive building. Staring in that darkness had been like gazing into a pit of utter nothingness.

No. Seaborne refused to let his logic fail him and clung to it tighter than ever. There was a reasonable explanation for everything, he just hadn’t figured it out yet. There wasn’t an endless void; their light just hadn’t been bright enough to see the edges. Transforming a clean library into an absolute mess overnight wasn’t inconceivable, just very difficult. Everything that seemed out of this world had very down-to-Earth explanations, and that gave Seaborne comfort. Roach hadn’t disappeared into thin air; he had just wandered off… for some reason. 

Seaborne folded the picture he'd found and stuffed it into his jacket pocket. Then, with a candle in one hand and a glock in his other, he ventured back into the great hall in search of his misplaced friend. Surely Roach was just around the corner, continuing his eternal search for proof of aliens and waiting for his partner to join him. Slightly comforted, Seaborne fully expected to see Roach immediately, yet the hall, like the records office, was devoid of anyone, Roach or otherwise. The light of his candle didn’t shine nearly as much as he would have liked, showing far less than even half of the long room. Silent as the grave, the library gave no sign of where his partner might be. There was not a whisper, not a footstep, nothing. 

“Roach?” he asked into the darkness, much quieter this time as if scared that something other than his friend might be listening. Luckily or not, there was no answer as he crept forward into the room. The candlelight shone a good twenty feet around him before quickly being eaten up by the shadows beyond. Seaborne’s footsteps didn’t echo but felt small and powerless against the silence as he crossed the enormous space, ever watchful for a crack or hole in the wooden floor. Everything looked the same as earlier, as far as he could tell, and moreover he saw no sign that his partner had come through here but he didn’t know where else he could have gone. With most of the shelves knocked over there wasn’t a maze of paths to traverse that would lead to other rooms. It was hard enough just going from the front door to the records office.

“Where did you go?” Seaborne muttered to himself, pausing to peer into the gloom. He couldn’t believe that Roach would have just up and left him all alone in this place, nor could he bring himself to think that someone could have taken him away. He had to be here, somewhere. Hopefully nothing else was lurking in the corners, waiting to jump out and eat him. Normally Seaborne wouldn’t cater to such fears, but right now the fear center of his brain was working overtime to counter his more logical side.

“I swear, if this is a prank...” he grumbled, choosing to become angry rather than let his fear take over. Anger he understood. Anger he could deal with. Being afraid? Afraid was not an option. As he approached the center of the room and the hole he had created and nearly fell to his death through, the floor creaked under his foot and he froze on the spot. Holding his breath he listened for anything that might have heard him, for footsteps approaching or a voice calling out. He let his breath out slowly, inching forward, around the gape in the floor. Another creak but this time he kept going. It was just the wood of an old building, nothing to be worried about. 

Something moved in the darkness, just at the corner of his eye and he whipped his head around to see, but there was nothing there. A shadow, a phantom, nothing but his imagination, surely. He continued on, slowly, carefully, giving the chasm a wide berth with his steps. Then, a scraping noise, faint as if from far away, yet it could have been right in his ear. He paused again, looking for the source of the noise but it seemed to come from nowhere and yet somewhere very close by. It got louder; like nails being scraped against wood, it wasn’t constant, Seaborne realized, but punctuated like a slow but steady heartbeat.

Almost as quickly as the sound met his ears, it vanished. Silence once again filled the space and the only sound was Seaborne’s shaky breathing. He suddenly realized that his hands were cold, his shoulders were pulled up tight to shield him from a rapid drop in temperature. He didn’t know what it had gotten so cold in here but now he wished he had a free hand to rub his arms to keep warm. Was that his breath? Was it really that frigid? His teeth started to chatter from the bitter chill. He had to find Roach and get out of here, and soon.

Inching past the hole he thought it couldn't be far now, but just as he started to look around to get his bearings, a new sound met his ears. Was it the wind? He hoped it was. It could have been the wind, though it sounded far more ominous. It sounded like a strained hiss, long and shallow. Seaborne’s heart raced and his breath quickened and even though he begged his feet to continue forward, they wouldn’t listen. He couldn’t move. His entire body tingled with the surge of adrenaline now coursing through his body but he just couldn’t will it to move. Another hiss, this time closer. This time he felt a chilling breeze upon the back of his neck. He turned...

Nothing there. The sight of nothing actually made him feel a million times better. It comforted him that it was only the wind. It hadn’t been a ghost, or some other supernatural being. It was only cold air moving through an old building and making strange noises. There was nothing to worry about, nothing to fear. Nothing unusual or unexplained. Seaborne let out a deep sigh of relief, lowering his arms and chuckling to himself. Just the wind, as he had previously assumed. Everything was going to be fine, that much he now knew. He was anxious for nothing. Taking in a cleansing breath, one that tasted of clean, summer air, he reassured himself one last time before turning back around.

Blazing eyes flashed in front of his face, seven of them, furious and crazed. The creature had the face of a demonic raven, mixed with that of a giant spider; huge mandibles flanked a serrated beak that was open in a deafening screech. Seaborne dropped the candle as he raised his hands to cover his ears from the horrible sound. Beyond the head, a feline body bigger than any lion or tiger Seaborne had ever seen, almost as black as the darkness surrounding it. Each leg ended with a three-clawed talon that looked capable of shredding him to pieces. Behind it, two huge wings that defied physics, being both feathered as a bird yet made of shifting shadow. The entire beast screeched again, rearing back to strike, but this time Seaborne reacted. Raising his gun, he pointed it directly at the beast’s heart and fired, getting off several rounds in just a few seconds.

The bullets seemed to hit their mark, but there was no blood, no wound. As they struck the body of the creature, the whole thing dispersed into shreds of darkness that drifted off into the shadows with one last shriek. Seaborne fired off one last shot just to be sure, but the massive creature was gone, perhaps back to whatever hell it had initially crawled out of. He was still shaking as he stared at the spot the creature was occupied, not sure if he was hallucinating or dreaming. It wasn’t enough to blame a trick of the light anymore. It had been far too real, and far too close for comfort. 

“Seaborne!” called a voice. Seaborne looked towards the sound; it was coming from the other side of the room, where the exit from his awful place hopefully still was. He didn’t have his candle anymore; it must have gone out after he dropped it. There was light, however, coming from the source of the voice. It had to be Roach’s lighter. 

“I’m here!” Seaborne called back, hope swelling in his chest. Moving faster now, he headed towards the light, hoping to find his dear friend at last and be done with his library for good. Over piles of dusty books and around a bookcase or two finally brought him to that which he sought. It was Roach, lighter in hand, handsome as ever.

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” he was saying, making a sweeping hand motion to demonstrate ‘all over’. “Where you been, man?” Holstering his gun, Seaborne actually felt a smile cross his face.

“I’ve been looking for you, ya jerk,” he explained. “I turned around and you were gone.” Now, surely, they could leave and continue their investigations elsewhere. Roach just shrugged and smiled.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” he promised. “I thought I heard something over here, but it turned out to be nothing.” Seaborne could definitely relate.

“I think this place is messing with our heads,” he agreed, shaking his head. “Did you at least find anything that would make this trip worth it?” Before Roach could answer, their conversation was interrupted by a strange, eerie hiss. Dread came over Seaborne’s face but Roach didn’t hear a thing and looked at his friend with confusion. Behind him, out of his line of sight, a dark figure rose up, huge and terrifying. It was the demonic raven, its eyes glowing bright, its maw opening wide, its claws prepared to strike.

“Look out!” Seaborne managed to shout, backing up as he went for his gun. Still confused, Roach turned on the spot, coming face to face to a mass of black feathers. Slowly he looked up into the face of a demon, his own face turning pale as a sheet. “Run!” Seaborne told him, still fumbling for his weapon. He didn’t understand why he hadn’t found it yet. Glancing down, he pulled aside his jacket to see the holster more clearly. It was empty. ‘ _But that’s impossible,’_ he thought, remembering clearly how he had put his gun away just moments ago. 

While he looked around on the floor, confident that it had just fallen somewhere, the beast pounced on his best friend. Roach cried out as vicious talons slashed at his midsection, a savage maw snapped at his face. He fought back with every ounce of his strength, but it was no use; the beast was three times his size. It moved in a flurry of feathers and claws, tearing through his clothing and flesh in kind, wings flapping excitedly behind it, a long forked tail swooping back and forth like a cat.

“Seaborne!” Roach managed to scream. Giving up on finding his gun, Seaborne grabbed up a large chunk of wood and wielded it like a thick bat. He tested the heft of his new found armament before turning around and preparing the swing. There was darkness; Roach’s lighter had been extinguished and it took a few seconds for Seaborne’s eyes to adjust. He no longer heard Roach yelling, or the sounds of an attack or scuffle. He crept forward as he became accustomed to the new light level and saw the creature was gone, vanished, having left Seaborne’s his partner and friend lying on the floor. The man wasn’t moving.

“Roach,” Seaborne uttered, softer than he meant to. His voice seemed caught in his own throat. With a shaking hand he picked up the lighter; it took him a few tries for the lighter’s spark to catch fire. The quivering flame illuminated a ghastly scene. Roach’s body was covered in blood and the torn remnants of his suit jacket and shirt. “No…” Tears streamed down Seaborne’s face as he examined closer, inspecting a sight that he could barely stand to look at. Kneeling beside Roach’s twisted and mangled body, he felt for a pulse that he didn’t expect to find. No heartbeat, no sign of life. Though he didn’t want to admit to himself the proof that was there before him, Seaborne had to accept the facts… in mere seconds, before his very eyes, his best friend had been killed.


	13. Chapter 13

A Few Minutes Ago  
~ ~ ~

Roach had been looking through the desk when he heard Seaborne say he’d found something. He had turned to see what his friend was talking about, but he was alone in the records office. He hadn’t heard the man leave, or seen him go, and yet the man had disappeared in a split second. Stepping over to where his partner had been standing, Roach noticed a side door hidden by a leaning chunk of wall. It was partially ajar. 

‘ _He must have gone this way,_ ’ Roach reasoned, squeezing through the opened door. He hoped Seaborne was just a few steps away in the next room, but in the dim light cast by his lighter, his partner was nowhere to be seen. He brought a sleeve to his mouth and coughed; this room was a great deal dustier than the others. Clouds of tiny particles hung in the air like filthy clouds, falling endlessly from above. The hallway beyond was lined with cheap curtains, magically intact though they were far from brand new. Pushing back the nearest one revealed a tiny room with a desk, chair, and a computer that gave the agent hope for a brief second. The screen was smashed and keyboard was missing over half the keys. Obviously these had been study rooms when the library was still in operation... yesterday.

Stepping away from the alcove, Roach set his mind back to the task of finding Seaborne; he could investigate the library mystery afterwards. He had a new mystery to solve: if his partner had gone through that back door, he couldn't have gotten very far. Why was he nowhere in sight?

“Seaborne!” Roach called out, holding his lighter higher in the hopes of seeing further. A thick layer of dust covered the floor; his own footsteps made clear tracks as he walked but there was no sign of any ahead of him. Had Seaborne even gone this way? Surely he’d have to, since Roach didn’t see him go any other way. Maybe the dust resettled? Like the rest of Ravenvale, this situation didn’t make total sense. There was just something a little off.

This part of the library seemed far more intact than the front rooms, with the furnishings and even the paint looking more old than trashed. Following the hallway past what had to be at least a dozen study rooms, occasionally calling out his partner’s name, Roach came upon another door, this one closed and unmarked. Turning the handle, he found that it was unlocked. He wasn’t sure why he expected it to be locked, but was pleased that it wasn’t. The door creaked loudly as he opened it, resisting the agent’s efforts to open it as if it was rusted shut. With a fair be of muscle, he was able to force it open revealing a dark room beyond.

His lighter barely scratched the darkness, leaving him with no idea as to how big the next room was. A strange, mechanical noise reached his ears, faint as if distinct. There was a _woosh_ of metal sliding against metal, followed by a loud _ker-chunk_. It repeated, over and over in a constant rhythm, like pistons or an assembly line. Where the sound was coming from, Roach couldn’t tell, but he was certain that he finally was going the right way. As he stepped into the dark room, he raised his lighter high in the hopes of being able to find his way, and he could almost make out some furniture.

There was a burst of wind from out of nowhere and the tiny flame on his lighter flicked out. He was plummeted into absolute darkness and immediately worked on getting his light back. The sounds of machinery disappeared from his ears leaving only the _scritch_ of metal on flint and Roach's heart pounding in his ears. When he eventually was able to relight the fire, the small room was illuminated so much brighter than before. Not that it helped him much. The room was completely empty except for the odd chunk of debris here and there. What purpose this room was supposed to serve, he could only speculate. For now it was a rather large waste of space that only added to Roach’s confusion.

Looking beyond the odd lack of furnishings, he noticed a distinct lack of doors on the far walls. His partner had definitely not come this way. Disappointed and more than a little frustrated, he turned to leave the room and continue his search elsewhere. That is when he noticed that the door he had used to enter this room wasn’t there. The wall behind him was completely blank, as if a door had never been there at all. Questioning his sanity, Roach reached out to touch the wall, positive that he had entered in this way. His fingers felt only paint and wood and pressing hard against the surface revealed that it wasn’t just his eyes deceiving him. The wall was solid, that much he knew. He also knew that it was impossible; where had the door gone?

Searching along the wall, meticulous and thorough, he didn’t find any sign of a door anywhere on this side of the room. Checking the other walls revealed much the same: solid walls without a single exit of any kind. Knocking on the walls was a mistake; rough, painted concrete leaving his knuckles battered and hurt and the walls unphased. He was trapped. Fear was starting to creep into his mind, but he pushed it back. Seaborne always boasted that he was the rational one, the sensible one, but while Roach was more prone to flights of fancy he understood that things were often more than what they seemed. He understood that how the world was supposed to work and what was physically impossible.

‘ _There has to be a door._ ’ There had been a way in therefore there had to be a way out, he just had to find it. After examining the walls, he bent down and checked the floor. The old wood was cracked and worn but solid enough that he couldn’t get through with just his hands. The ceiling was too far for even him to reach, so looking for an exit up there wasn’t an option. 

During his second pass of the walls, making sure he hadn’t missed a secret latch or opening, there was a loud knocking behind him. He whipped around, holding his lighter out, his eyes scanning for the source of the noise. Across the room from him, set in the wall, was a door. It looked just like any normal door that one might find in an old, abandoned library. He couldn’t be sure if that was the door he’d entered through or not; he couldn’t be sure which wall was which anymore. Cautious he crept forward, lighter held aloft before him, slowly approaching the door that someone had just knocked on.

Another knock, louder this time, made Roach flinch, startled. Determined to investigate further, and keep his own dread at bay, he pushed forward. It had to be the same door as earlier. Perhaps Seaborne was the one knocking. The door had been difficult to open after all. With a gentle turn of the door knob and a hard tug on the door, he opened it with no problem revealing an all new corridor that he’d not seen before. Three lights lined the ceiling, flickering periodically and leading the way to yet another door about twenty feet away. The long hall was marked with faded squares where paintings used to hang and flanked with six doors, closed and unremarkable.

‘ _This is becoming a maze,_ ’ Roach mused, stepping into the hallway. His footsteps seemed louder to his ears than they should have been, though it could have very easily been his own anxiety about this place. He stopped at the first door to check the room beyond for his missing friend, but the knob wouldn’t turn. Locked. As was the door across from it. Thoroughly, but swiftly, he checked the next door and the next until he reached the far end of the hallway. Unlike the other doors, this one was slightly open, not enough so that he could peer inside but enough to tell him that his partner probably went through here. ‘ _There’s nowhere else he could be._ ’

As his fingertips brushed against the rusted metal of the handle, the door slammed shut with a loud bang and the knocking came again, louder this time. Something was pounding on the door, demanding to be let in and Roach was terrified of what might be on the other side. Behind him the doors that knew were locked creaked open, slowly. Roach’s head spun around to see absolute darkness beyond them all, and he felt a cold breeze rush at him. The air smelled like death.

“ _Give in…_ ” A soft whisper carried on the wind, breathless and slow. No, not a single whisper. Hundreds of whispers, thousands of voices all speaking at once. The hairs on the back of Roach’s neck stood on end and he found himself walking backwards subconsciously, putting his back up against the nearest wall.

“What do you want?” he yelled, not to be intimidated by those that would hide in darkness. He tried to sound intimidating and fearless, but he couldn’t hide the tinge of fear in his voice. He looked around, waiting for an answer. The doors waved, slightly opening and then closing and opening again. The closest one to the left stayed still, however. A hand black, as if covered with ink, reached out of the opening, caressing the wall, and another sharp wind struck Roach. His lighter flickered out, the ceiling lamps turned off, and Roach was once again in pitch darkness.

“What do _you_ want?” asked the voices. Before Roach could answer, another light turned on directly above him, blinding him momentarily with its brightness. He shielded his eyes, trying to peer behind the pain to see the hallway but it was gone. He was back in the door-less room. Standing before him was Seaborne, his friend, his partner. Seaborne wasn’t moving. Tentatively Roach reached out to touch the man’s shoulder, but Seaborne’s head turned sharply. Too sharply to be humanly possibly. One second he was looking at nothing and the next… right at Roach.

“We tried to ask you nicely,” said a thousand voices from Seaborne’s mouth. “Your desires brought us here.”

“Who are you?” Roach demanded, a sense of madness creeping into the back of his mind. This couldn’t be real. Was he dreaming? Had he fallen and hit his head? Where was Seaborne?

“You’re wasting time,” the voices seemed to tease. Seaborne’s head tilted to the side, his movements slower this time. “Asking all of the wrong questions.” Angry now, Roach made to grab at Seaborne’s arm, or whatever was pretending to be Seaborne. His hand touched nothing but air.

“You’re not real,” he countered, fearless and certain. “None of this is real.”

“What is reality,” the voices replied, taunting with a smirk. “but what we can perceive?” Raising a hand, ‘Seaborne’ revealed a knife in his hands, no more than a few inches long. He raised a hand to strike. Unwavering, Roach stood tall and didn’t move. He knew what was real and what wasn’t. His friend and partner would never hurt him. This was a hallucination, a dream, a-

“Ah!” he exclaimed as the blade scraped against his check. He brought a hand to his cheek instinctively and blood came away on his palm. There was a cut, a real one.

“Did that feel real?” It did. It hurt. “Reality is merely a persistent illusion,” the voices continued. Roach looked up from the smear of blood on his hand to see Seaborne fading before his eyes. It was growing dark. “And we control the illusion.” Roach had no idea where he was. All he could see was darkness and then, the voices spoke one last time. “Time’s up.”

Shots fired, in the distance. Roach still couldn’t see but he turned his head towards the sound on instinct. Three shots. Unmistakable. Silence. A fourth shot. A glock. Seaborne. It had to be Seaborne’s gun. He was in trouble and Roach was stuck in this nightmare. Rushing forward into the void, hands held out to protect him from whatever he might slam into, he abandoned any thought of sense that this place might have and clung to the hope he could save his friend.

“Seaborne!” he yelled, desperate and furious. He ran for a few seconds without tripping or hitting anything when the strange voices reached his ear. He was moving and yet they were right there, on his shoulder, quieter and much closer this time.

“ _The truth shall set you free._ ”

~ ~ ~

  


The Present 

Seaborne had never been one to show a great deal of emotion, but he couldn’t stop the flow of tears that streamed down his face as he wept over the dead body of his best friend. The mystery that had surrounded this town no longer mattered, nothing mattered in fact. His best friend and partner, the man he loved, was dead and he had been powerless to prevent it. He didn’t care if the vicious monster that did this came back to finish him as well. All he could do was cry; leaning over he held the bloody, lifeless body of his friend close to his chest, waiting for the pain in his heart to finally stop. Please let this be a nightmare. Please let him wake up from this horror.

“Seaborne?” At the sound of the voice, Seaborne looked up, peering through tears to see who was speaking. Though his vision was blurry from crying, he saw a tall figure standing a few feet away, dressed in a dark blue suit and holding a lighter, a somber and frightened look on his face, a line of blood on his cheek. Seaborne was hesitant to hope. 

“Are you real?” Roach asked, his voice shaky, his hands doubly so. Seaborne didn’t hear the question. His mind was reeling from what he had just seen and what his eyes were telling him now.

“Roach,” he whispered, his voice soft and choked with emotion. “You’re-” Looking down, to check the body that he had pulled into his arms, he saw it was gone… disappeared without a trace. “You died.” He looked around at the floor, but the blood that had begun to seep into the floorboards was gone. Roach approached slowly, reaching out with his free hand.

“I’m here,” he promised, tenderly touching Seaborne’s shoulder. “I’m alright.” Seaborne still didn’t seem to hear him, weeping quietly, slumped over on his knees. Then, with jolt he jumped to his feet and wrapped his arms around Roach, burying his face into the man’s shoulder, his body shaking with every sob.

“I thought you were dead,” he whimpered into Roach’s lapel. Roach hesitated before hugging Seaborne back. He had never seen his friend like this. Ever. The man normally kept his emotions bottled up and showed only a strong and rational calmness to the world. This place must have really done a number on him. It had done a number on them both.

“I’m here, man,” Roach assured him, rubbing his back. “I’m not dead; I’m okay.” He held on for a minute or two until Seaborne was ready to pull away. When he did he was far more composed, having forced himself to buck up; he wasn’t about to let this place defeat him, no matter what it made him see. Whipping away the last remnants of tears from his face, he turned away not wanting Roach to see him like this.

“I saw you die,” he explained, looking into the darkness as if he wanted it to corroborate his story. “Where were you?” Shaking his head, Roach didn’t answer. He was sick of this building, this torment. Strolling over to the front door, he reared back and slammed into it with his shoulder. The wood of the door seemed to shudder before flying open. Fresh air met his skin and lungs and he breathed in deeply. Fog curled around his feet and light shined around his silhouette. Looking back to his partner, he held out his open hand.

“Let’s get out of here,” he suggested. Seaborne couldn’t have agreed more. Taking Roach’s hand he let the man pull him from the darkness and into the foggy light of freedom.


	14. Chapter 14

Seaborne shielded his eyes from the blinding light as they emerged from the darkness of the library. In the light of day the nightmares didn’t seem so bad, the illusions didn’t seem so real. It had been nothing more than a trick of them mind played on them by someone as of yet unknown. The fear that had burrowed deep inside faded away as he took a deep, (albeit moist) breath. He felt as if he had just woken up from a bad dream, though this whole town felt like a dream he couldn’t wake up from. A dream that started yesterday when they walked into this odd place.

Seaborne shook his head. Yesterday. It seemed like years since he and Roach had to abandon their car and walk to this insane town. How could it have been only yesterday? He looked up at the sky, at the fog that lay, unmoved, like a thick blanket over everything. Even with the sun at high noon, the two of them could barely see farther than twenty feet in front of them. Pulling on Seaborne’s hand, Roach began walking very quickly back towards the gas station.

“Hey!” Seaborne exclaimed as he felt himself being dragged along. “Where are we going?” Not that he wanted to wait anywhere near the library, in case any of the horrors contained within came out to get them, but his mind was still reeling from what he had seen inside. He was also a bit taken aback at how his crush was still holding his hand; Roach never held his hand. Ever.

“To get our car,” Roach explained, not slowing down. He was determined to escape Ravenvale no matter what. He had seen things that he never wanted to see again, things that could only be explained as the crazed delusions of one drugged or insane. It could have been in the food that he’d eaten with glee. It could have been in the coffee that kept him going in the morning. No, Roach didn’t think it was either of those, but something more obvious: the fog itself. This fog wasn’t natural, it couldn’t be. Therefore there was something in the fog making them see things, hear things, a drug or toxin that could cause such realistic hallucinations. Obviously they couldn’t hide in the buildings; they had to get out of town. It was the only way.

“And if our car is still broken?” Seaborne posed the obvious question but Roach was unhindered, possibly unhinged after what he’d seen in the library. What the aliens truly wanted he had no idea, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know anymore. His need to keep Seaborne safe was overriding his need for the truth. 

“Then we’ll take the mechanic’s truck; we’re leaving this damned town.” Seaborne couldn’t agree more, but he was still surprised by Roach’s actions. No matter what they investigated, no matter how swept up in the mysteries he got, or how scared, Roach had never broken the law before. Not like this. Grand theft auto? That would definitely be a new one for the North Carolinian duo. Their footfalls were dampened by the fog, ever-present, almost choking them as they ran. Water condensed on their skin as they made their way; dew formed on Roach’s glasses but he ignored it. The lights on the Texaco station were out, and nothing seemed lit inside. Roach finally let go of Seaborne’s hand to get a better look through the store’s window. No sign of anyone in there. 

“They’re closed,” Roach concluded, wiping some dirt from the window and looking again. Seaborne was looking somewhere else, his palm resting on the front of his jacket, just above his breast pocket. The photograph. He’d almost forgotten in the chaos of the library. 

“I have to show you something,” he whispered, thinking back to what he had seen on that small piece of paper. After all that he’d seen, maybe the photo wasn’t a fake. Maybe Roach had seen it too. Seaborne had to know.

“It’s too early to be closed,” Roach was muttering, trying the door. Locked. “Maybe we can get in through the garage. Come on.” With that, he grabbed Seaborne’s hand once again and together they headed around the corner to the garage entrance. Luck was finally with them for the large rolling door was indeed open. Roach let out a soft ‘yes’ as he dashed inside. 

“Roach...” But Roach wasn’t listening. He came to an abrupt stop in front of the mechanic’s bay. There, in the center of the room, where their tan, rental car should be, was nothing. The car was gone.

“What the hell?” Roach demanded, rubbing the back of his head in frustration. Were the people in charge of this conspiracy so eager to torment them that they’d trap them in this town? Glancing around, Roach didn’t see the mechanic’s truck parked anywhere either. Wherever Doug and Darrel were now, they must have taken the cars with them.

“Where’s the car?” Seaborne wondered, his wish to share the photograph to Roach momentarily replaced by a fear that they may never leave this awful place.

“It’s not real.” An assertion said to himself as much as for his partner. After what he’d seen, how could be sure what was real? “It’s gotta be here somewhere.”

“They must have moved it.” Trying to settle back into the voice of reason, Seaborne spoke softly to calm his friend, if not reassure him that they had escaped the world of nightmares and were back in reality. He had to believe it, if only for his own sanity. “It didn’t just up and disappear.”

“To where, though?” That was the question. It could be anywhere in this town and they had no idea how big Ravenvale even was, having only seen a small part of it thanks to the fog. It wouldn’t be that hard to hide one or two cars. “Okay,” he mused, walking over to a nearby table. Doug and Darrel must have used this table while they worked on cars; it was covered in tools and random rags, among other things. In one fluid motion, Roach used his long arm to sweep across the table, knocking everything onto the floor with a loud crash. Seaborne flinched at the noise.

“Roach?” he asked, moving to stand across from his friend. The line from where the fake Seaborne had cut across his face was still there, thin and red. Seaborne had said nothing about it earlier, but it concerned him all the same. What had happened to this man while the two of them were separated? Roach looked a bit wild but there was also concentration on his face, a look of determination and focus.

“What do we know,” he stated, leaning over and placing his hands on the table. This was the pose he always used when he was interrogating someone, or when he was about to go over the details of a case. Seaborne knew it well. He knew how to play along with this.

“Are car broke down.” Fact one. A fact they could be sure of.

“We headed into town,” Roach added, remembering. “We went to the hotel.”

“Mrs. Marble was there,” Seaborne continued, laying out the facts with his partner. “She told us about the festival.”

“But there was no festival,” Roach noted.

“Because of the fog.” At that, Roach raised his head to look into his partner’s eyes.

“They _said_ it was the fog,” he corrected. It was true; there had been no sign that the town had been getting ready for any event, festival or otherwise. Why would they lie about that?”

“You’re saying there is no festival?” Seaborne guessed. Roach shook his head.

“I’m saying that _this_ -” he flicked a hand, gesturing all around them- “This is the festival.”

“A prank?” Seemed odd that anyone would go to so much trouble to prank two FBI agents this way, but the other explanations were few and far between. 

“We’re still missing something,” Roach grumbled, looking back at the table. He didn’t see the table, of course. He saw events, moments, people and places, all lined out in an elaborate tapestry in his head, coalescing and entangling in a conspiracy that he had yet to understand. “What happened next?”

“Doug took me to check on the car.” A strange trip to be sure. “He was terrified of the fog.” Roach nodded at that.

“Something in the fog,” he seemed to write down in his head. “A drug? Hallucinogen?” 

“He seemed more afraid of leaving the borders of the town,” Seaborne added. 

“Maybe it’s denser out there.” Impossible to be sure. “What’s next?”

“You saw the fairy.” Now Seaborne had to say this without judgment, but there was a lilt in his voice he couldn't hide. Luckily, Roach didn’t notice.

“Dancing in the fog,” he remembered. “Real or not real?”

“Fairies aren’t real,” Seaborne stressed. “I’m going to say ‘not real’.” Roach flinched. He had seen it, he had believed it, but now he had to question his own eyes.

“Fine. Next.”

“You went to talk to the librarian,” Seaborne recalled. “I went to take a nap.” ‘ _Had that dream…_ ’

“Anything happen while I was gone?” Roach pressed, looking up again. Seaborne hesitated and his partner didn’t like it. “Seaborne?”

“I had a weird dream,” he admitted, hoping Roach wouldn’t ask more. Of course, he did.

“About what?” At the sound of the question, Seaborne’s eyes unconsciously looked at Rhett’s hands. He looked back up at Rhett’s face quickly, but Roach had already noticed. “Well?”

“Uh, hands,” he murmured, embarrassed. “Just hands.” Roach looked down at his hands. Seaborne had been looking at them, but why?

“My hands?” he guessed. Seaborne really hoped he wasn’t blushing just now.

“N-no,” he lied. “Just hands. It was a stupid dream, just drop it.” Roach stared at him for a few seconds, trying to figure something out, before finally looking back at the table.

“Okay, fine,” he relented. “Dream. Next.” 

“We went to the library. The first time,” Seaborne clarified. “It was a normal library.”

“No,” Roach corrected. “Not normal. The books. Only the ones we’ve read had text.”

“Impossible. No one could know what books we have and haven’t read.” Right? “Had to be part of a hallucination.”

“A shared hallucination?” Roach questioned. 

“A shared belief,” Seaborne appealed. “Like when you and your friends get high and you all start seeing the same weird shit.” Who knew those wasted evening in college would be good for something? “Hallucinogens combined with the power of suggestion. You said something, my brain believed it and made it real.”

“Possible,” Roach agreed. He paused. “It could also be-”

“Not aliens, Roach!” Seaborne barked. “Stay grounded here.” Roach fumed for a second, then moved on.

“Next,” he grunted. Seaborne though about what happened next, what important events they had to yet rehash, but then he paused. That’s the night they slept in the same bed, and Roach had _that_ dream. Spoke Seaborne's name. He didn’t want to talk about it, neither of them did, but holding back information wasn’t allowed. That’s not how this game was played.

“We went to bed,” he began, speaking quickly and hoping they could get through this part as fast as possible. “I… freaked out. Came over to stay with you. W-we slept-”

“Right, right,” Roach nodded, remembering the night clearly. “Not important. Move on.”

“Wait.” His partner waved a hand, motioning to go back. “Hang on. Your dream-”

“I don’t want to talk about it, man…”

“Just tell me, was it super… intense? Like, hyper-realistic?” At this, Roach looked up into his friend’s eyes, squinting slightly. “Was it the most real dream you’ve ever had?”

‘ _So real,_ ’ Roach thought, thinking back. ‘ _But not real enough._ ’ To Seaborne he said “Yeah. It… it felt very real.” ‘ _And amazing, and intoxicating… and-_ ’

“Mine, too.” Seaborne looked down at the table, his eyes scanning as if he could see the tapestry of conspiracy that Roach had laid out with his mind, too. “So far we’ve seen two places that have had huge effects on our minds. The library- which I never want to set foot in again, and-”

“The hotel,” Roach concluded, turning to look out the window at the hotel’s neon sign glowing through the dense mist. “There’s a clue there, I know it.” Seaborne couldn’t argue, he had no idea if Roach was right or not. Nothing in this town had made sense since the morning they arrived, but it was as good a place to start as any. Still...

“Wait, before we go. I need to show you something,” he pressed, palming his pocket again. 

“Not now, Seaborne,” Roach replied, leading the way back to the hotel that seemed to be the beginning of all this. “We finally have a lead.” He wasn’t holding his partner’s hand this time and Seaborne thought about just taking it, but the moment had passed. He missed the warmth of Roach’s hand and the comfort that it had brought, but he had to remember that he was an FBI agent and he was trained to deal with situations like this.

~ ~ ~

The hotel’s neon sign was still glowing through the mist, its ominous red glow humming as they approached the front door. Inside was the familiar, under-furnished lobby with its one fake plant and the clock without hands. There was no sign of Mrs. Marble. The door to her office was open and Roach made a beeline for it. Seaborne meanwhile searched the counter in the lobby. Everything looked the same- No, wait. The key cabinet was empty. All the keys were gone, every last one. Seaborne was taking a closer look when he partner returned.

“Nothing there,” he was muttering. “Anything out here?” Seaborne motioned towards the cabinet. 

“The keys are gone,” he pointed out. Roach looked where Seaborne was pointing.

“I haven’t seen any other guests,” he noted. “Have you?”

“I haven’t seen five people since he got here,” Seaborne grumbled, turning away. “We should check upstairs,” he suggested. “I still want to check your room, see if you left your gun somewhere.” Roach made a face, but followed right behind.

“I didn’t _leave_ it anywhere,” he insisted. “Someone took it.” Seaborne let it drop as he headed up the stairs to the second floor. He paused at the landing. The long hallway, with hanging lights and ugly carpet, was flanked by a series of doors. That alone wasn’t unusual, but where the doors had all been closed the last time he passed through here, this time they were all just slightly open. As Roach came up behind him he stopped short as well, his mouth falling open. “Oh,” he uttered.

“Odd, right?” Seaborne agreed, his eyes not leaving the hallway, but Roach couldn’t find any words to answer. Even though the hall was clearly lit, it bore an unsettling resemblance to the one he saw in the library. His heart beat a little bit faster at the memory. “You okay?” 

“Let’s not stay here long,” Roach managed, taking the lead. Staying calm, he fumbled for his lighter and held it at the ready. Had this been a week ago, Seaborne would have question his partner’s need to use a lighter in a perfectly lit room, but he understood the reason now. They had escaped the library, but he didn’t trust this hotel to be a safe haven from nightmares. He could only hope.

They passed by the small alcove that had once held two vending machines. It was only a few doors away from the rooms they had stayed in last night. Glancing it they saw the alcove was empty, devoid of both pop and candy machines that had been there a few hours ago. Seaborne and Roach exchanged glances; Seaborne raising an eyebrow and Roach nodding in agreement. Like the library, things had changed in this hotel, though the changes were definitely more subtle. They continued on, both too scared to open any of the doors enough to see past them. When they reached their own rooms, they paused, sidling up against the wall on either side of Roach’s door. It was slightly ajar, just like the other doors. With a nod from Roach, Seaborne gently pushed open the door. When nothing immediately jumped out at them, they both leaned over to look inside. It was empty.

Not empty, as in there wasn’t a single person inside, but empty, as in it was devoid of people, furniture, and everything else but a window. The bed, the nightstands, the desk and chair, all gone. It was an empty room lit by a single overhead light and a large, sash window with no curtains. 

“Well. Your gun ain’t here.” Seaborne joked. Roach didn’t laugh. 

“What is going on here?” was all he could say. He spun around with his arms out, as if the missing furniture was somehow invisible and not just… gone. Meanwhile, Seaborne sighed and looked out the window at the foggy town below. After a moment he reached into his breast pocket, but the photo from the library wasn't in there. His shoulder's slumped. Of course it was gone. Everything in that awful place had been an illusion. Why would the photograph be any different? From here he could see a few houses nearby, all cookie-cutter copies of one another in various shades of pastel colors. They had matching driveways, all empty, but without x-ray vision it was impossible to see inside their garages. Seaborne wondered if their missing car could be inside one of those.

As he tried to peer in the houses through the dense fog, he couldn’t see anything quite clearly. What he did see, in the bay window of the nearest house, was a large, dark shape. It wasn’t human, it was much too large, far too wide. Honestly, Seaborne couldn’t tell what it was. It wasn’t moving, so there was every possibility that it wasn’t even alive, but something about it terrified him to the core. The way it’s dark shape pierced the grey fog, it just felt… wrong. Turning to call over Roach, Seaborne’s eyes left the shape for only a moment, but when he looked again, it was gone. A shiver ran up his spine.

“What is it?” Roach asked, coming over. Seaborne couldn't pull his gaze from the spot where the shape had been. Though he hated to say it, he knew where the should go next.

“I think we should investigate the houses.”


	15. Chapter 15

Roach kicked in another door. Seaborne plugged his ears so he wouldn’t flinch so hard this time, but it still startled him all the same. This was the eighth or ninth door they’d tried since they began a systematic search of the hotel’s second floor. Each room was identical to the last in both floor plan and furnishings. That is, they were all completely empty save for a single overhead light. Seaborne couldn’t believe that all the rooms had been emptied out since he and his partner reached this God-forsaken town; he had to assume they never had any furniture. It didn’t make any sense, but nothing did but, as Sir Arthur Conan Doyle once wrote: Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth. The problem was, too much of this place was impossible.

“This place is a bust,” Seaborne told him, looking in on the empty room. “What do you expect to find?” Roach shrugged.

“I dunno,” he admitted. “ _Some_ thing.” He cross the small room to the window across from the door, much as Seaborne did before they started this pointless search. Unless the view from Roach’s room, this window didn’t face any of the houses, only the empty void behind the city’s limits. Beyond the thin, invisible pane of glass there was nothing but fog. 

“If there was anything here, it’s long gone by now.” Leaning against the far wall, Seaborne folded his arms across his chest. At this point he didn’t care if they did find anything in his cruddy hotel. He wanted to find their car- _any_ car, really- and they weren’t going to find it doing a room by room search in here. “Maybe there’s a police station in town,” he supposed, not hopeful. “They couldn’t have cleaned that place out.” The increasingly infamous ‘they’: a theoretical group of unknown size that seemed bent on completely messing with two unsuspecting FBI agents for some obscure reason. Seaborne hated that Roach had finally convinced him that there was a ‘they’, after all these years, but a conspiracy seemed to be the only explanation.

“I haven’t seen so much as a road sign,” Roach noted, peering through the mist as if he expected one to suddenly appear in contradiction. “And I doubt we’ll be able to find a map.” Pausing, he turned back to his friend, flicking the hair on the back of his neck. Seaborne wondered how the man hadn’t started going bald back there for all the times he did that. “I feel like we’re so close to something here. I just know it.”

“Well, not _here_ , here,” Seaborne noted, somewhat humorlessly. Roach did not appreciate the joke.

“We can’t go chasing every dark shape we see,” he tossed back, with more anger than he meant to. Seaborne looked away, wishing they didn’t have to argue right now. “We don’t know what’s real and what’s not. We need to keep our heads and stick to what we can prove.”

“We can’t prove anything,” Seaborne muttered before he could stop himself. Roach wanted to snap back, but Seaborne was right. They had nothing right now; no leads, no proof, no car, no guns, no phones. They were completely lost in a fog, literally and figuratively.

“I know,” he sighed, crossing the room to stand next to his partner. He leaned against the same wall and their shoulders were right up against each other. In the chill of the room, Roach’s arm was a wonderful heater. Seaborne wanted to curl up next to the man, toasty and safe, but friends didn’t do that. Reluctantly he pushed away from the wall and stood a few feet away with his hands on his hips.

“I found a photograph in the library,” Seaborne blurted after a minute or so. He wanted to break the silence and for some reason that was the first thing that came to his head. Roach looked at him, curious and surprised.

“Of what?” he asked, wondering why his partner was choosing now to suddenly bring this up. At first he figured that Seaborne had just forgotten, but then he heard the nervousness in the man’s voice as he continued.

“It was a photo of us,” Seaborne explained, unable to make eye contact with his friend. If the photo was just a figment of his own imagination, he was embarrassed to admit what he had imagined. “In the camaro.” At the mere mention of their red coupe, Roach couldn’t help but think about his dream from last night, and the activities that had taken place therein.

“They were probably watching us before we even came to this town,” Roach concluded. He vowed to find out who was doing this when they got back home. He wasn’t going to let this one go. “Do you still have the photo? Can I see it?”

“I- It’s gone,” Seaborne managed, apologetically. “I don’t even know if it had been real in the first place,” he added quickly.

“They wanted you to see it.” his partner shrugged, as if he was stating the obvious. “They wanted us to know they had been watching us.”

“Maybe,” Seaborne faltered. He wasn’t sure if that theory could hold true; it hadn’t been a photograph of the past, it had never happened. Of course, Seaborne couldn’t tell Roach that. He already felt like he’d said too much already.

“Well we’re not going to find anything standing around in here,” he pointed out. This conversation was getting too close to revealing his inner secrets and he needed it to stop right now. “We need to check out the local houses, if only to question the the other residents.” He shrugged as if to ask if he wasn’t right and Roach nodded in agreement.

“Maybe we can at least find a car to take out of this place,” he proposed, standing straight as well. At the mere mention of a car Seaborne was suddenly hit with visions of him and Roach sitting naked in his camaro, and glanced out of the window, expecting to see a small face peering in. There was nothing there. He turned back right away but Roach had already noticed his partner’s movements. “What? What is it?”

“Nothing,” Seaborne replied, his statement half true. He dearly wished he had seen something, then they would have some sort of lead other than his own strange sighting. “Let’s just go.” Without another word he left the room, trying to focus on something other than what the photograph had shown him. Now was not the time to be thinking about Roach naked. After a moment or two Roach followed suit, chalking up his partner’s behavior to stress.

“I was done checking in here anyway,” he murmured to himself. Outside, back on the streets, the fog seemed denser than ever. The humidity was seriously messing with Roach’s hair now, causing the normally perfectly placed hairs to stick up in weird places. Running a few fingers through his dirty-blonde quaff left the hair moist and only slightly more in place, but it was better than nothing. Seaborne’s hair was somehow unphased by the humidity, though it was still quite damp. It was as if they had both stood in a bit of light rain for a few minutes. Their suits were in a similar state, leaving them with a rather damp feeling. What Roach wouldn’t have given to be back home, wrapped up in a blanket in front of his fireplace… maybe a cup of hot cocoa in his hands, Seaborne sitting next to him…

“I think it was this one,” Seaborne pointed out, interrupting Roach’s thoughts. He was pointing to one of the many houses that lined the streets and looked pretty much like any of the others. This one was a pale yellow with white trim. It was fairly nondescript with two floors, a two-car garage and large windows that were blocked by closed curtains. 

“You sure?” Roach wondered as they sauntered over to the mailbox. It was black and unmarked.

“Nope,” came Seaborne’s curt reply. He wasn’t sure. All the houses looked so similar and he really didn’t think it mattered that much. They had to start somewhere. Roach shrugged.

“Good enough.” Strutting up to the front door, Roach searched for a doorbell. When he didn’t find one he settled for knocking a few times on the door itself. No answer. He knocked again before giving up and testing the door knob. He wasn’t sure if he should have been surprised or not that the door wasn’t even locked but, taking it as a stroke of luck, he pushed the door open and stepped inside. 

The entryway was empty; a windowless room with a small closet and an overhead lamp that bridged the gap between the front door and short hallway. The walls were the purest white, the wooden floors much the same. Roach walked softly, trying to stay quiet lest whomever lived here would hear him. Seaborne followed close behind, equally cautious. He didn’t want a repeat of the library. Who knew what was living in these homes? He and Roach walked down the hallway before pausing at the end. Roach leaned around the corner, wishing he still had his gun at his side, not that he was certain a bullet would do anything against the illusions he’d already seen. 

His eyes scanned the living room beyond, checking for hidden dangers before motioning to his friend that the coast was clear. It was more than clear. Like the rooms in the hotel, the living room was empty of furniture, as was the adjoining nearby kitchen. At least, he assumed it was supposed to be a kitchen. It was hard to tell without counters, cabinets or appliances. 

“Just like the hotel,” Seaborne mused, stepping past his partner and into the large room. “Just an empty shell.” He glanced at the ceiling, the walls, the baseboards. “Not even electrical sockets.”

“Not that they would have worked anyway,” Roach pointed out, remembering his uncharged phone. “So much of this town is like a facade: outlets that don’t work, clocks without hands, rooms without furniture.”

“Windows without glass,” Seaborne added. Roach turned to see his friend sticking a hand through the frame of the room’s big bay window. Turning to look back at Roach, Seaborne and he exchanged glances as the taller man approached to test out the glassless window for himself. Like many things, it made no sense. If there was no glass, how was the fog outside kept at bay? Surely the curtains couldn’t be the cause. Roach thought back; had all the windows they’d seen been fake as well? 

“Or it could be another illusion,” Roach countered, running the fabric of the curtains between his fingers. “Nothing in this town can be trusted.” He tossed the curtains aside before turning back to his friend. “I want to find the clues that will solve this mystery, more than anyone, but I don’t think I can without a clear head.”

“You think we’re still, what, drugged?” Seaborne felt his lungs fill with air, tasted breath on his tongue, felt it in his throat. It didn’t taste like drugs, had no scent beyond regular air.

“I think as long as we stay in this fog we can’t believe anything we see, hear, or touch.” Absently-mindedly he ran his fingertips along the scratch still on his cheek. “Even if it leaves a mark.”

“An illusion did that?” It was hard to believe, but so was everything else insane that Seaborne had experienced. If true, it would mean that neither of them could be safe from their own minds, their own imaginations.

“An illusion with an illusionary knife,” Roach clarified, remembering distinctly. Seaborne dearly wanted to hear more details about that. “It doesn’t matter,” Roach continued, as if reading his partner’s thoughts. “Look, I don’t know how far it is ‘til the next town, but I say we try to walk for it. At the very least we can maybe get away from this fog. They can’t have covered the entire state with it.” The logic was sound, but the application could be more difficult than just a stroll through the park. Still, they had to try.

After a brief search of the rest of the house, revealing only more empty rooms, Seaborne and Roach returned to the streets. The fog was still ever present, but neither of them could see more than five feet in front of their eyes. It was getting thicker with each passing minute. If they were going to leave, now was the time. Roach took Seaborne’s hand; he didn’t want to lose him in the fog. Together they stood at the side of the street, where the road met the sidewalk, exchanged one last nervous glance, and then… they started to walk.

They walked in silence, in a perfectly straight line, away from Main Street for several minutes. They passed house after house, block after block, with no sign of life anywhere. Not a single person or car passed their sight, only more of the same monotonous town. Seaborne was afraid someone was going to stop them, that some terrifying illusion would attack them, but nothing did. Roach was certain that the edge of the fog couldn’t be far and he was determined to find a way out if he had to walk a hundred miles. There had to be an end to this nightmare somewhere.

After walking for about an hour Seaborne cursed himself for not buying more comfortable shoes for this trip. The cookie-cutter houses had stopped awhile back and there was nothing but wide open spaces on either side of the road. Not that they could see very far; there could have been buildings not thirty feet away and they wouldn't have known. Without much of a view, he was looking down, focusing on putting one foot in front of another when Roach came to a complete halt beside him. 

“This isn’t happening,” he whispered, falling to his knees. “This _can’t _be happening.” Looking up from his kneeling, distraught companion, Seaborne saw immediately what had his friend so distressed. There, not twenty feet away, piercing through the fog to glare at them both, was the insidious red neon sign of the hotel…. ‘Hotel’ it read. ‘Vacancy’. Somehow they had returned to where it all began. Seaborne sat down on the cold, hard asphalt beside his friend, all hope of escaping this ordeal abandoning his heart.__

____

____

“They won’t let us leave,” he mumbled, shocked and dismayed. “We’re trapped here.”


	16. Chapter 16

This was the last straw for Roach; this town had finally broken him and he couldn’t take any more. From his spot on the ground he looked up at the heavens, blocked out by the dense fog that taunted emotionlessly. Seaborne was at his side, unsure how to comfort his friend. He felt much the same way: trapped and lost in this crazy maze. He felt a strong desire to hold his partner, kiss him and tell him everything was going to be alright. It wasn’t an unfamiliar desire, but somehow it was much stronger than it had been in the past. Roach was so close to him, so forlorn… Seaborne wanted to hold him and never let go. It would be so easy to close the gap between them, to taste that which he never could…

He was shaken from his thoughts as Roach stumbled to his feet, completely oblivious to his partner’s inner struggle. His eyes were only on the fog around them, and anyone or anything that might be hiding within.

“What do you want from us?” he shouted, frustrated and angry. He raised his arms in a ‘come get it’ gesture and Seaborne glanced around in fear of what might appear. “Show yourselves!” Roach taunted. “We’re not afraid of you!” He wasn’t fearless, he wasn’t being brave, he was just sick of being yanked around. Whoever trapped them here would have to show their faces eventually, Roach figured. He was done playing their games. As the words left his mouth, Roach felt a shiver down his back; Seaborne felt the same thing. Sunset was still many hours away, but it was growing dark very quickly, leaving them lost in both mist and darkness. The street lights failed to turn on, leaving the entire town blanket in an unshifting fog and a dominating shadow. 

Silence. A silence that had been unsettling in the day time was now a grim omen of what was to come. Roach fumbled for his lighter but even when lit the tiny flame did little to hold back the gloom. He held it out in front of him, waiting for someone to appear, or some _thing_ to attack. Seaborne rose to his feet to stand beside his friend, peering into the fog but there seemed to be nothing but the endless dark. Even the buildings had been enveloped by the endless haze. The rest of the world did not exist outside of this tiny bubble in which Seaborne and Roach now found themselves. Just as it felt as though the fog was going to erase them as well, that’s when the whispering started.

The voices were hushed at first, speaking only nonsense as far as Seaborne could tell, and they came from all around as if the fog itself was trying to speak. No matter how hard they tried, neither he nor his partner could understand what the voices were saying, but they didn’t sound especially friendly. The voices grew louder and more insistent; it was impossible to know what the voices wanted and yet both Seaborne and Roach got the feeling that they were demanding something. After what seemed an eternity, the voices began to quiet down again, leaving the FBI agents back in the unbearable silence.

The peace and quiet was short lived, however. Just when they thought this town couldn’t get any weirder, a light appeared in the darkness. It was a few meters away, too far to make out through this much fog. With the only other choice being to just wait and see, Roach’s instinct to investigate was far too strong. Lighter in front of him and a hand at Seaborne’s back, he led them both towards the source of the mysterious illumination. They approached it slowly, but perhaps it was moving towards them as well, it was hard to be sure. Eventually they reached a small clearing- at least, they assumed it was a clearing- in which stood a red camaro. _Seaborne’s_ red camaro. It was just sitting there, as real as anything else they had seen so far, but like many other things in this town, its presence was impossible.

Before either agent could breathe a word to each other, a pair of smokey figures appeared in the car. One was tall, almost too tall for the small sedan, sitting in the driver’s seat of the vehicle. The second was slightly smaller, and seated directly in the lap of the first. They were like mannequins, human-shaped but devoid of detail. Then, as the agents watched, the figures solidified, coming into focus as two humans, two men… as Seaborne and Roach.

“The photo!” Seaborne exclaimed, astonished.

“My dream,” Roach blurted at the same time, shocked. Immediately they turned to face each other, eyes wide in absolute amazement.

“What?” they both demanded simultaneously. The sounds of lewd moaning turned their attentions back to the scene in the car and they saw the images of each other sitting, and now moving, very erotically. Seaborne blushed at the sight and Roach swallowed hard. Neither could believe what they were seeing, nor what their friend had just divulged. Roach was embarrassed beyond belief, seeing his very dreams playing out in the real world. Seaborne couldn’t stop watching, confused and- if he was being honest- more than a little turned on. His own dreams had not been so different in the past, but he’d never seen them displayed in full view of his crush before. He felt a little bad for Roach but, then again…

“You, uh… you dreamt that?” he asked, once he found his voice again. Roach rubbed the back of his neck, unable to meet his friend’s gaze. “When? While we were in this town?”

“Y-yeah,” Roach admitted, bashfully. “Last night.” The sex scene was reaching its crescendo and both Seaborne and Roach stared at their doppelgangers, slack-jawed and enraptured before the whole scene faded back into the mist once again. The light that had come from nowhere to shine on the car was gone, leaving only Roach’s lighter to glow around them. The two men were quiet for a moment before Roach continued. “You… saw that in a photo?” he asked, still feeling a bit shy after having his innermost fantasy put on display like that.

“I was trying to tell you earlier,” Seaborne explained, dearly wishing he still had that fateful image. “I found it in the library, but it was gone before I could show you.” He paused, gears turning in his head. “You said you dreamt about Gina last night.”

“I-” Roach thought back to the night before, waking up wrapped around Seaborne. “... lied,” he finally finished. Seaborne couldn’t breathe. He stared at his lifelong friend, breathing heavily. Roach had dreamt about the two of them… together? He had so many questions: was this a normal dream for Roach to have or, like Seaborne’s own strange encounter in dreamland, was this probably caused by being in Ravenvale? Did Roach enjoy the dream or was it, for him, a nightmare? 

The fog shifted again. A new scene lay before the FBI agents, this time it was Seaborne lying on his hotel bed, his clothing being pawed at by mysterious hands that looked just like those of his partner. It was Seaborne’s dream from yesterday and he grew pale at the sight of it. He wished that he could cover Roach’s eyes, keep him from seeing this dark secret, but he knew it would be pointless. He had seen Roach’s dream, there was no way Roach was going to look away. The hands moved just as Seaborne remembered, holding him- this time his copy- down on the bed while others removed his clothing. The real Seaborne covered his face, unable to watch the drama play out again, nor watch his friend’s current expression.

His partner, meanwhile, was enraptured. He recognized his own hands in the illusion hold Seaborne, touching him as Roach had always wanted to touch him but couldn’t. It was forbidden; just watching this vision felt forbidden but he couldn’t take his eyes off it. Is this what Seaborne had dreamt? Is this what he desired? It was hard to say how much of their dreams had been manipulated by whatever was making them see things now, but if Seaborne had experienced this in his dream… Still, why were they seeing their dreams like this now?

After a minute or two of watching the hands undress Seaborne, waiting to see what they would do once the man was naked, Roach felt his blood running hotter, his pupils dilating and his heart racing. If this was a dream that Seaborne dreamt, Roach liked this dream. More than that, he liked the idea of Seaborne having this dream. 

“Is it over?” his partner was saying, his eyes still covered. The hands had fully undressed imaginary Seaborne and were now touching his naked body in all the ways Roach had always wanted to touch his friend. He dearly hoped that this vision wasn’t over. 

“Uh,” he managed, his head turning slightly away but his eyes fixed on the scene. Hands were spreading the other Seaborne’s legs apart and Roach’s mouth started to water. His own fingers were unconsciously brushing their tips against one another, wanting to feel what the dream hands had felt, what the illusion was feeling. Wanting to feel Seaborne.

“Let’s go,” Seaborne pleaded taking Roach’s hand and guiding him away from the vision. Roach followed, reluctantly. Glancing back, he saw that vision fade away just like the first.

‘ _Dang_ ,’ he thought. When the vision had faded completely, leaving the two of them in foggy darkness once again, Seaborne paused, waiting for the next invasion of his privacy. When nothing happened for awhile, he readied himself for the proverbial elephant in the room.

“The fog is making all dream these things, right?” he wondered, looking anywhere but at his partner.

“Maybe,” Roach answered, unsure. It was possible, at this point, but he knew that he’d had dreams of a similar nature in the past. None so realistic, but many about him and Seaborne. He had just assumed the fog had made his dreams more vibrant.

“Maybe?” Seaborne repeated, now looking at Roach. “You’ve dreamt about me before?” Roach raised his hands in exasperation.

“Wha- I dunno!” he fumbled. “It’s just a dream. What’s the big deal?”

“Whatever man…” Shaking his head and walking back into the fog, Seaborne let the conversation drop. He didn’t want to talk about it, he didn’t want to think about it, about him sitting on Roach’s lap, about Roach touching him in all the wrong… in all the _right_ places… No. This place was messing with them both. He just wanted it to be all over so he could go back to normal, back to reality. Reality was back home, in North Carolina. Reality was he and Roach as friends and nothing more. Anything else was a fantasy, a wish that could never come true.

Roach, meanwhile, was feeling a bit dejected, but that was nothing new. He had tried several times in the past to tell Seaborne how he felt, but his hints had always failed. Seaborne was stubborn and refused to play along. He always just figured Roach was playing around, making jokes in poor taste, and Roach eventually stopped trying. Seaborne didn’t want to be more than friends. Seaborne was a straight man raised in the south. Roach would just have to live with that. He learned that long ago. So the two of them walked on in silence, waiting for the next vision, the next hallucination to blow their minds. It wasn’t long before they felt a new chill in the motionless wind and they turned at the same time to see a dark shape forming in the mist. Several dark shapes, in fact.

One after another formed at the edge of their vision, where the fog was too thick to make them out clearly. They all looked exactly like the dark shape Seaborne had seen in the house across from Roach’s hotel room, large and foreboding. Seaborne turned slowly; the shapes were appearing all around them in a large circle; he and Roach were surrounded. The shapes, no more than dark shadows in the fog at first, slowly began to coalesce into smaller figures. Smaller, human figures. There was Doug and Darrel, Cindy and Deneir, even Mrs. Marble but any hint of friendliness had left their usually benign faces. Now their soulless expressions filled him with a sense of dread.

Once formed these shadow people began stepping closer to the federal duo, their feet moving as one collective, like soldiers in the army. Seaborne took a step backwards, his back meeting up with Roach’s as the two of them watching the oncoming mob, their arms raised defensively in preparation for an attack, but then the people stopped. They paused in a tight circle around Seaborne and Roach, their eyes empty, their faces blank. Out of the corner of his eye, Seaborne saw Roach instinctively reach for his gun, only to remember that it had been taken hours before. If only they had their weapons, anything to defend themselves, although there was no certainty that it would help; this could be another hallucination for all they knew.

“It’s not real,” Seaborne assured his partner, trying to comfort both Roach and himself. “It’s just like the library: it’s all an illusion.” Roach nodded. He knew it had to be an illusion, but it was so real. Like his dream, like the library, it was all so real, and he knew first hand that and injuries would definitely be real. 

“Just stay behind me,” Roach told him, taking a protective stance in front of his friend. Seaborne wasn’t sure if Roach could protect him, but he felt comforted anyway. The various people all opened their mouths to speak and when they did it was with a thousand voices, more voices than a group their size should have had, and all speaking in unison. Roach, meanwhile, recognized the voices as the once from the library. He eyed the faces as they spoke, suspicious and ready to defend himself and Seaborne.

“There is no escape,” the voices said, without feeling, without inflection. “Not while the truth remains hidden.”

“What truth?” Roach barked, furious at being kept her against his will.

“The truth will set you free,” the voices replied, explaining nothing. It was the same phrase they had used at the library, but Roach still didn’t understand. Seaborne was equally confused and more scared than he would have liked to admit. Then, a thought occurred to him. Perhaps that was the truth they wanted, for him to admit how he felt about this whole ordeal. It was worth a shot.

“You want to know you’ve scared me?” he asked, looking at each face in turn. “Is that the truth you want? Fine. I’m scared. I hate this place and I’m scared that I’ll never leave.” 

“When the honey fails, the vinegar must be applied.” Not the response either Roach or Seaborne expected and it clarified nothing. Roach sympathized with Seaborne’s feelings, but he didn’t think that was the truth the voices were talking about. Perhaps Seaborne was right, though. Maybe the voices did want a confession, an admission of guilt, an acknowledgment of wrong-doing, or maybe something else. Swallowing hard, he turned to his best friend.

“You want to leave here, right?” he asked, looking into Seaborne’s eyes. 

“Of course,” his partner agreed, wondering what his friend was getting at.

“You trust me, right?” Seaborne wasn’t sure what his friend was planning, but he did trust him. Implicitly. 

“Yeah,” he agreed again. His eyes were locked with those of his partner and for a moment he thought they were going to make a run for it. Roach was more nervous now than he had been this entire time, but his eyes didn’t leave Seaborne for one second. Roach felt his heart beat in his ears, but he knew this was the only way. It had to be. All evidence led to this moment, this truth. He just hoped Seaborne would forgive him. Without warning, he took Seaborne’s head in his hands, leaned down, closed his eyes, and pressed their lips together.

All of time stopped in that moment. The rest of the world did not exist. All Seaborne could see was Roach. All Roach could feel was Seaborne. A myriad of emotions ran through their bodies and eternity passed in mere seconds. The truth that they had tried so hard to hide from each other was finally revealed and there was no going back. Roach was about to pull away, to apologize profusely, when he realized that Seaborne, the man he had loved for all of his life, was kissing back. Seaborne didn’t have any words to say, he didn’t know how to respond to tell Roach that he felt the same way, always had. Instead he closed his eyes, brought his hands to Roach’s waist and pulled him closer, deepened the kiss and breathed in the scent of the man he loved. The man who loved him back.

Seaborne was shaking when they finally pulled away to breathe. Neither man had let go, and their eyes saw nothing but each other. The fear that they had experienced moments ago was forgotten, the voice and visions gone from their minds, and there was only each other. That and the truth that they had just shared. Neither knew what to say, even though they both had everything to say. As the shock wore off, Roach smiled. Seaborne smiled back and the two of them broke into gentle laughter. 

“I love you Bo,” Roach managed, his hands dropping to take those of his partner, his love. Seaborne held them close, his eyes never moving from Roach’s face.

“I love you,” he told him, in awe of what he saw. Love. Devotion. Desire. Was this real? Was this another illusion? He didn’t care. He couldn’t let go. Neither could Roach.

Out of the corner of their eyes, the rest of the world came into view as the people gathered around them began to fade, like the other illusions. They shifted into the mist and the darkness lifted into daylight. The mist was dissolving, the fog dissipating. They saw the buildings of Ravenvale: the gas station, the hotel, the library, the houses. They were all dissolving with the fog, fading into thin air. Just before the places evaporated into nothing, they heard the voices one last time.

“The truth has set you free…” With that last message, the voice, the fog, the entire town, was gone. Roach glanced behind his friend, nodding towards the only thing left. Their tan rental car stood, unphased, by the side of an empty road. Other than that there wasn’t anything but boundless fields and the open road as far as their eyes could see. The two men exchanged glances before cautiously approaching the car. It looked unharmed. Seaborne opened the passenger side door and opened the glove compartment.

“Our side arms.” He pointed to the weapons inside. Lying there as if nothing had happened. Roach jumped into the driver’s side, holding out his hand to his partner.

“You got the keys?” Seaborne passed them quickly and Roach immediately shoved them into the ignition and turned them. The car started right away without a fuss. The engine purred, ready to take them home.

“Let’s get outta here,” Seaborne suggested, getting in and putting on his seat belt. Roach put his own seat belt on and went to put the car in drive but then he paused. He looked at his friend, his heart growing nervous again.

“Bo,” he began, putting his hand on Seaborne’s knee. “It wasn’t all an illusion… right?” Seaborne placed his hand on top of Roach’s, smiling with a knowing face.

“Not the stuff that was important,” he answered, rubbing his thumb along the back of Roach’s hand. He leaned forwards and Roach did the same, meeting in the middle for a quick but tender kiss. This part was real. Their love was real. It always had been. It always would be.

“Just checking,” Roach said with a grin. He gave Seaborne’s knee one last love-squeeze before letting go to put the car in gear. As they drove off down the road towards the next town, neither was certain about what Ravenvale really was. Had it ever been real? Was it unreal? Whatever the explanation, something wonderful had happened between them. Something that was more real than anything they had experienced. Something they would keep for the rest of their days. Together.

~ ~ ~

Once the car was out of sight, unknown to the two FBI agents lost in their new relationship and thoughts of finally going home, the fairies fluttered over the former site of Ravenvale.

“That was the best festival ever,” one cheered, smiling.

“I thought they’d _never_ figure it out,” another replied, shaking its head.

“I hope they come back again,” a third noted. “They had very creative imaginations.”

“Maybe they will,” still another remarked, tilting its head. “Same time next year?” The rest of the fairies nodded excitedly. Then, with tiny giggles and a wave of their hands, they all vanished into the ether. They couldn’t wait for next year.

~The End~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy ending, as promised. That's all for now! I know this story leaves a lot of questions, but that's kinda the point. Feel free to ask if you are super confused about anything and I'll do my best to answer. Until next time loyal readers. Thanks for reading and I hope the ending was worth the wait. Love you! *hugs you all*


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